One to Waltz
by tarajcl
Summary: Set in Armada. The Autobots and the Decepticons are out to find a Minicon in the forest. The Minicon is out to avoid this. NOTE: Old!fic. Reuploading chapters, nothing to see here.
1. To Wonder

NOTE: Was requested to re-upload this, so here it is. Please don't bother to concrit; this was four years ago, I _know exactly_ how bad it is. Unless you were one of the ones requesting, seriously, just ignore this.

To Wonder

Silence reigned.

It sometimes seemed to Megatron as though his existence was divided into two parts. The majority of it consisted of a seemingly endless wave of sound and chaos, orders and command, battle and fury. The other few moments left over from the daily business of ruling an empire always seemed to turn to this; utter silence.

Like so many things, he couldn't decide whether he was grateful for it or whether he loathed it entirely.

He stared ahead of him, leaning forward slightly in his throne, his fingers arched before him. The slight frown that was his default expression was all his face gave away.

It was strange, really, that he got any silence at all in a base consisting of four other giant robots beside himself, most of whom were approaching borderline insanity. But Wheeljack was tinkering in his lab, Demolisher was filing reports, Thrust was busy reviewing old battle sequences and who knew what Cyclonus got up to in his spare time? Megatron personally preferred not to speculate.

He was not satisfied.

It didn't really make sense. He was in possession of the Requiem Blaster. Admittedly, the Autobots had the other two super-weapons, but still. It was a victory. The moon-bound Decepticon's track record in that department being what it was, you had to enjoy victories while they lasted.

He was not satisfied.

Not at all.

The disgusting, loathsome, irritating possibility was beginning to worm its way into Megatron's mind that maybe, just maybe, he had made a mistake.

Megatron hated making mistakes. More than anything else, he hated making mistakes. More than Optimus Prime, more than this insane planet and its satellite, more than Starscream…

No. Not more than Starscream.

His frown deepened.

One thing the silent moments did do was allow for one's mind to wander. Megatron hated that, too.

So when the Minicon alarm blared throughout the base, he dipped into his daily ration of evil smiles.

* * *

The setting: an idyllic forest on a mountain slope. All was still. All was peaceful. Needless to say, all was about to go to scrap. 

Leaves rustled. Birds looked up. Forest creatures briefly paused from their daily activities, at the sound of several large, approaching creatures. From far off, there came the sound of a raspy voice complaining, a younger voice joking, and an older, tired voice busy trying to keep the other two voices in line.

At the sounds, two purple optics peeked out from behind a rock, before disappearing again. Shortly they reappeared, followed by a silver, metallic head. One human-sized hand became visible, gripping tightly to the surface of the rock. The optics narrowed, and the whole thing suddenly ducked back once more.

Skyscan leaned back against the rock, his knees drawn up. He held his ray-gun up, checking the setting once more. Satisfied that it was still firmly set on 'incinerate', he decided that it was time to get moving. Glancing around furtively, he paused, steeled himself, and bolted into the trees. He moved quickly, but carefully, so as not to attract any attention.

As he ran, Skyscan kept a steady grip upon his weapon. The voices became further and further away, and he smiled quietly to himself.

The lousy bastards weren't going to get _him_ without a fight.

* * *

"There are no words to describe how stupid this is." 

Hot Shot smirked.

"C'mon, it's not that bad.", he drawled, unable to keep the faintly provocative note out of his voice. As far as his alleged partner was concerned, it was definitely that bad.

Starscream growled and took a half-hearted swipe at a branch that was blocking his vision. As though on silent command, six other branches moved to take its place.

Starscream really, really hated trees.

Sure, they looked pretty, sometimes, and they had their uses in supporting life. But when he was flying they looked like they looked like just another shade of green and when he was surrounded by them he was blinded, trapped, irritated and attacked by slow-minded woodpeckers.

And now that he was here he couldn't even cut the slagging things down, as any sensible mech would do. Optimus had sternly instructed him not to. And when, thirty seconds into the exploration, he had gotten fed up and, in a moment of forgetfulness, taken out his sword, Alexis had begged him not to damage the forest. So, reluctantly, he had agreed, and now here he was, unable to even give the insolent greenery what it deserved… He growled again.

Hot Shot turned, and gave a laugh.

"Having trouble?", he snickered to the red seeker, who now stood on one leg in a tangled mess with his wings, his cannons and most of his limbs trapped between surrounding trees.

Starscream paused from squirming helplessly to give him a poisonous glower, before returning to the task of extricating himself with as much dignity as possible.

A hundred metres or so away, Red Alert sighed and shook his head. Really, they were worse than the kids sometimes.

He suspected that Hot Shot had agreed to accompany them on the ground as a weird way of making up with Starscream, after last week's little incident. Whether Starscream appreciated the gesture or not was uncertain.

Optimus had requested that both Starscream and Jetfire remained on the ground as much as possible, to the displeasure and annoyance of both. He had justified it too, saying that he wanted to 'reduce the risk of being detected'.

Privately, Red Alert thought that it was unlikely that any group consisting of nine Autobots, five humans, several Minicons and one robotic bird was likely to avoid detection for long, in the air or otherwise. He quietly suspected that Prime's motives had more to do with worry about the risk of long-range fire from the Requiem Blaster than anything else.

The kids had asked permission to accompany them, which was why Red Alert was here now, in his unofficial role as caretaker. It wasn't that he hated the job. It was just that he felt sure, in some private corner of his mind, that he was screwing it up somehow. It was a feeling he often had, although he made a point of not letting the others know. No one likes finding out that the guy who holds their life in his hands is more or less in a well-concealed state of nervous panic.

Red Alert flicked his optics around once more, satisfied that his charges were not doing anything openly suicidal at that exact moment.

"See anything, Red Alert?", called Fred, who sat upon the medic's shoulder, making his way through a enormous bag of chips. To tide him over on the mission, the human boy had also thought to bring five sandwiches, a bag of marshmallows, two bags of pretzels, a muffin and a few thousand chocolates, all of which he carried in a bag slung over his shoulder.

"No. Nothing," said Red Alert, checking the portable Minicon scanner. The device bore a faint resemblance to a transformer-sized game-boy, and its screen currently showed nine dots of red light and fifteen dots of blue. A team consisting of Sideswipe, Blurr and Scavenger was searching the west quarter of the forest, while Optimus Prime, Jetfire and Hoist made their way through the east sector.

There was no sign of the Decepticons. Or, for that matter, the Minicon.

"Not yet."

* * *

This sort of thing was not supposed to happen to Megatron. Ever. 

Not surprisingly, it was the fault of his idiot inferiors. Cyclonus, in this case. Whenever the copter-bot got bored, it was a sure sign that something was about to go horribly, horribly wrong. Apart from his unfortunate fondness for puns and morbid jokes, the Decepticon also had a tendency to become somewhat…trigger-happy whenever he deemed life to getting too slow for his taste. Which was why Megatron now sat on the ground, one antler slightly bent, half buried in a mound of rubble and dirt which had been sent avalanching down the mountain side by a misplaced laser blast.

"Cyclonus…", growled the tyrant, one of his pre-prepared rants getting ready to bubble out.

There was an extremely nervous giggle from the helicopter, who hovered overhead. Cyclonus transformed and hopped over to assist his leader.

_Why does he never __**walk**_, thought Megatron privately. Even Demolisher, stupid as he was, seemed to get the concept of walking in a straight line. Not Cyclonus. He jumped, he hopped, he staggered, he weaved, he sometimes even skipped, but his movement never translated to anything as sane as an actual walking pace. At first, it had been unnerving. It still was, but now it was mostly irritating.

Demolisher appeared and fell about the task of freeing Megatron, at the same time admonishing Cyclonus for his foolishness. Megatron sighed. It was a pity, he reflected, that Thrust had persuaded him to let him wield the Requiem Blaster this time. He would dearly have loved to shove it in the faces of his ineffective 'soldiers'.

"Demolisher, get out of the way. Leader-one…"

Realization dawned on Demolisher's face and he ducked to the right just in time to avoid the rubble-clearing blast from his leader's fusion cannon.

Well, that was taken care of, thought Megatron as he stood up and brushed himself off. On the negative side, of course, it had almost certainly alerted the Autobots to their presence. Slag. Tidal Wave had been left behind on the moon solely as a way of keeping this a covert mission. Double slag.

Keeping his temper as far in check as he could, he ordered Demolisher to return to helping Wheeljack and Thrust find the elusive Minicon. Cyclonus was instructed to get into the air and keep a watch for approaching Auto-trash.

When his men were out of view, Megatron gingerly felt his bent antler, reflecting that if they did not capture _both_ the Minicons that the computer said had been activated, he was going to be really quite angry.


	2. To Wreck

Many thanks to all who reviewed! You people make me so happy…Here's another one, a bit more action than the last, hope it don't get confusing. Oh yes, seeing as I forgot to put a disclaimer in chapter one(don'tsuemedon'tsuemedon'tsueme!!!), here it is: I own nothing. Well, apart from the story. And my Minicons. And a keyboard. And some socks… shutting up now. As always, hope you like.

To Wreck

Swindle tried. He really did.

Although he wasn't naturally cut out to be an obedient, helpful little tool or a noble, trustworthy partner, he did his best to at least reach the level of 'not just an annoyance'.

But it wasn't easy.

It especially wasn't easy when he kept getting hit by leaves, branches and other organic junk. Forests, he surmised, were useless. Useless, too big and full of leaves. He really didn't see the point.

_Ah, well_, he thought, and went back to his favourite hobby. Namely, getting on a certain someone's nerves.

"Hey, boss, ya think _I _can have the next Minicon?", he asked innocently, as Starscream stalked through the trees, the crimson race car on his shoulder.

"Quiet, you," muttered Starscream, whose mood had only decreased with every minute of their search. A search which, admittedly, was seeming more and more pointless.

Red Alert had pinned down the location of the latest Minicon three times now, and each time it had eluded them. All Autobots were beginning to feel distinctly irritated at this point. What was more, it now seemed as though the scanner was picking up two signals, which probably meant that this little expedition was going to be even longer.

Swindle watched with interest and expectation as his partner's fuse got shorter and shorter.

The other two teams had reported even less success, and Hoist, Jetfire and Optimus had now joined up with them. Scavenger, Blurr and Sideswipe were still searching. The only thing, Swindle thought, that could make this situation any worse was-

A laser hit a tall nearby tree, sending it crashing to the ground in flame.

Ah. The Decepticons had arrived.

Swindle did not know why he seemed to be one of the only Minicons capable of actual speech. He assumed it came from having Starscream as a partner. The Decepticon's patience was short, and in the time it took a transformer to come to understand the computer-language of the Minicons, he might well have absently stepped on Swindle out of sheer boredom. The race car was smart enough to pick this up within the first five minutes of their relationship, and had taken to talking in the local lingo soon after that. It meant that some of the other Minicons treated him with a certain amount of nervousness, but it did mean that he had earned enough of the jet's respect to actually call himself one of Starscream's very few friends.

And, of course, there was the added bonus of being able to tease and torment his somewhat deranged 'friend' at any and every given opportunity.

Not that the other bots knew, of course. Why should they? Swindle never bothered revealing to anyone else the secret of his ability to speak in the Earthling tongue, simply because there was no one else he particularly wanted to talk to.

Well, 'cept for the girl, of course. Who was now being herded with the other squishies to shelter behind some rocks by Red Alert, as Demolisher, Megatron and Cyclonus appeared before the Autobots.

_Hmm. Horn-head's missing a horn_, noted Swindle the Observant.

"Prime," growled Megatron in acknowledgement.

He was not, at this point, the fairest in the land. Apart from having a bent antenna upon his head, he was still dusty from the earlier avalanche and now sported several twigs and leaves sticking into his armour in places, as the result of a particularly violent encounter with a willow. To say that there were happier campers than he would have been an understatement. The other two Decepticons stood a little further from their leader than strictly necessary, in the same way that a person living beside an active volcano would know when it was time to get out of its way.

Megatron was, in fact, fully aware that he was outnumbered two to one. But right now he just couldn't care less.

Optimus was worried. It was not good. They stood in a clearing, but there was still plenty of forest around them to burn. The kids were nearby, although they could probably take care of themselves. And Thrust would soon be arriving, almost certainly with the Requiem Blaster. Not good at all.

They would just have to chance it, thought Optimus with a resigned sinking feeling, as Megatron gave the order to attack.

* * *

They had stopped following him. Well, that was something, at least.

However, Skyscan suspected that the delay was only temporary, unless they actually succeeded in finishing each other off, which was doubtful at best. It was astonishing, he thought, that after four million years of war neither the Autobots or the Decepticons had destroyed each other or fought to a standstill. Terrible, really, what a few grudges and misunderstandings could do.

Bastards.

Oh, well, he thought, spinning his gun on one finger. It wasn't his problem. And, as long as they stayed away from him, he wouldn't be their problem, either.

He waited for a few minutes, before starting off running again.

* * *

One of the advantages the Decepticons did have this battle, thought Megatron with a grim smirk, was the Autobots' ridiculous affection for anything organic.

Whilst Prime, Starscream, the yellow one and the space shuttle fought in the middle of the clearing the other two Autobots stood on the rim, deflecting any shots that went for the trees. It was definitely evening the odds somewhat. Demolisher appeared to have noticed, and was now aiming almost as many shots at the trees as he was at the enemy.

Wheeljack arrived shortly, and was immediately confronted by Hot Shot, as Optimus Prime leapt for Megatron with the Skyboom Shield in hand. The two flyers were left to deal with the others.

Jetfire's first pang of actual dread came when Thrust appeared moments later, shifting out of stealth mode to stand before them, the Requiem Blaster in hand.

"Oh, joy.", muttered Starscream beside him, knocking Demolisher aside with the Star Sabre.

The seeker moved to confront the stealth jet, before being suddenly knocked over by a stray blast from Megatron's fusion cannon. Jetfire swore, going to help his fallen team mate before his optics caught sight of Thrust, who was aiming the Requiem Blaster, with an unpleasant little smirk.

The instinct that was Jetfire's constant companion in battle took control of him. Several facts aligned themselves in his mind, very, very quickly. One: Starscream was next to him, and if Thrust fired at Jetfire the red seeker would also be hit. Two: If he outwardly attacked Thrust, the blast might very easily go wide and hit one of the others. Three: The kids were here, and he knew well how easily humans got slagged.

So, with all these facts in mind, Jetfire did the only thing he could think of. He leapt into the air.

It was every flyer's default strategy. No matter what the situation was, the first objective was always to get into the air. Most flyers were competent enough on the ground, but almost all excelled in the air. It was their function, and their habitat.

And, right then, it was probably the stupidest thing Jetfire could possibly have done.

Thrust blinked, as the target which had been standing frozen in front of him suddenly appeared twenty metres above him. He gave a low hiss, sounding unnervingly akin to a viper for a moment, before spinning the gun in his grip and pointing upwards.

Jetfire pulled to the right just in time to avoid a lethal beam of energy.

_Well,_ this_ was a good idea_, mused the little voice in his head, before devoting its attention to the problem at hand. Namely, how to keep Thrust distracted without being melted into commemorative coins.

_Tricky_, he thought as Thrust shot into the air after him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hoist caught sight of the white Autobot darting and swooping in the air, pursued by what appeared to be an increasingly antagonized Thrust.

_What is that idiot _**doing** his mind screamed.

Swindle watched the aerial battle as his partner groaned and rolled over.

_He's just going to __**love**__ this_, he thought.

Starscream pulled himself upright and checked that the Air Defence team was unharmed. Satisfied, he glanced around for his battle companion. He wasn't there. And neither was Thrust. Or the Requiem Blaster, for that matter. Starscream snapped his head up and screeched a word too coarse for gentle ears.

"Idiot!" he snarled, holding Cyclonus back with the flaming sword.

* * *

Jetfire was prepared to admit that, no, this had not been one of his better ideas. Although he had thus far succeeded in keeping Thrust away from the forest and the kids, he had just discovered a nasty little fact: Thust's aim seemed to have improved since last they fought.

He paused briefly to look down upon the battle, noting that Hot Shot was now in a furious battle with Wheeljack and Starscream was fending off both Cyclonus and Demolisher, with the help of Hoist.

When the shuttle looked back at his opponent, he realized that he was no longer there. Jetfire blinked and cursed himself for forgetting the Decepticon's stealth mode.

_Now where did he gooo-ooooo-ooooh boy_, thought Jetfire as his audio receptors picked up the horrible sound of a very compact, very powerful beam of energy, heading right for his unprotected back.

_Oh yeah, forgot that. He's fast, too_, thought the little voice.

He had just enough time to turn slightly to the left and see the purple blast headed straight for him before it struck. It was a turn that saved his life, although later he would wonder if it had been worth it. He felt it go past his shoulder as though in slow motion, a second before more pain than he had ever thought it was possible to experience flared across his back. A hideous, unrelenting wave of pain which swept throughout circuits that simply shut themselves down as a desperate, protective measure.

Jetfire's optics darkened as the shock sent him into stasis. Just before he lost consciousness and fell, one single realization burned through him.

His wings had been completely torn off.

* * *

As Starscream saw Jetfire begin to fall, he did not think. He did not wonder, worry or scheme. He simply reacted. But he reacted _**fast.**_ His spark felt as though it had suddenly frozen over but that did nothing to deter his movement. With feline grace he leapt into the air, the Air Defence Team disbanding as he released his grip on the sword.

As Sonar watched the red jet transform in mid air and tear towards his fallen comrade, he nodded to his gestalt partners. All three Minicons transformed and followed Starscream, moving in formation, as was their habit.

Hoist had also noticed Thrust's shot hit its mark and gave a quiet growl as he turned to face Demolisher and Cyclonus. He had been hit by that damned gun before and it knew just how much it hurt. Uncharacteristic though it was for the gentle Autobot, both his fierce loyalty and bitterness over his 'death' lead Hoist to decide then and there that a little retribution was in order. Red Alert moved to take his place beside him, opening fire on the whining helicopter.

Hoist gazed down upon Demolisher with what the tank-bot accurately judged to a be a distinctly predatory smile.

* * *

At the edge of the clearing, two green optics narrowed as they surveyed the fight. Metallic red fingers tightened around the handle of beautifully crafted, technologically advanced axe. It was a masterpiece really, a hi-tech, aerodynamic tool, but above all, it was sharp. The thing in the bushes paused for one moment to choose a strategy, before deciding what the hell, strategies were for wimps. He just went for it.

Hot Shot was just drawing back a fist to punch Wheeljack in the face when he heard the cry. A long, gargling, solitary war-cry of defiance and bloodlust and nigh-insanity. His head turned sideways, and he blinked at the sight of a red and green blur shooting from the tree line.

"Huh? What's that?" gasped Rad.

"I think it's a Minicon…" replied Carlos, a note of serious doubt in his voice.

Hoist, for some reason, seemed too preoccupied with punching every square inch of Demolisher he could reach to notice. However, Red Alert turned from his brawl with Cyclonus to see what new commotion had come up. His jaw dropped as he took in the sight of Wheeljack, being savagely attacked by an axe-wielding, five foot-tall blur.

"Is that…a Minicon?" asked Incinerator hesitantly.

Red Alert gave a mute nod.

When it slowed down(which it rarely did), it revealed itself to be of a green, red and black colour scheme, and yes, it was indeed carrying an axe. A very, very sharp one. Listening closely, Red Alert fancied he could made out words in the endless wave of furious sounds that issued from the newcomer's mouth.

"TAKETHATANDTHATANDTHATANDTHATANDTHATANDATHATAND_…_ "

Ah. Right.

As the Autobot medic watched, his mouth still hanging open in astonishment, Cyclonus shrugged, and moved. He was used to strange things. As far as he was concerned, the universe was largely made up of strange things, one of which was him. He never understood why other people seemed so surprised when strange things happened in a strange universe. Now, if normal things happened in a strange universe, then-

The copter-bot broke of his internal monologue at that point, aware that he would probably continue all day if he didn't.

Instead, he took advantage of the distraction and drew back a fist. The next thing Red Alert knew, he was lying on the ground, and Cyclonus was sprinting towards Wheeljack and his tormentor.

The Minicon had stopped its assault briefly, and looked around rabidly, as though wondering who to maim next, now that Wheeljack lay groaning quietly on the ground. Its optics widened as a giant hand closed around its body.

As the creature he held let loose of volley of threats and curses, Cyclonus grinned.

"Hey, Crumplezone, look what I caught!", he crowed to his Minicon in triumph.

"Nice, 'Clonus.", drawled the colourful mech, shaking his head in pity for both the Minicon and his two-screws-short-of-a-toolbox master.

"Cyclonus, get it out of here!", roared Megatron, taking a swipe at Optimus. He wasn't going to give the order to warp out, not yet. It had been a long, tiring day so far and he was not leaving this forest without both Minicons in his possession. If Fate had other plans, he was perfectly prepared to take up the matter with her.

Cyclonus cut the celebrations short when he realized that he was now surrounded by Hoist, Hot Shot and the recovered Red Alert. He pouted, before his face drew into a wide, demented grin.

"See ya, suckers!", he yelled, and transformed. He held his closed fist in such a way that, when he had switched to helicopter mode, the Minicon appeared inside him, by his pilot seat. Had he thought about this for more than one second, it would have occurred to him that this was not the most intelligent move in the world. As it was, however, he was quite pleased with himself for thinking it up in the first place.

_Yeah, go me_, he thought smugly, rising above the Autobots and flying off in the direction of the mountain.

Red Alert had no idea why he was angry. But he did know that he was. Really, really angry. Somehow the insult of being outwitted by _Cyclonus_, combined with his earlier failure to lead them to the Minicon's whereabouts was made the whole situation even worse than it had been.

The fact that his face now had a dent where Cyclonus had hit him did not help.

So, because he was decidedly angry, the sensible, capable Red Alert did something stupid.

"Hey, Red, hold up! I'll get him!" offered Hot Shot as the mild-mannered medic growled to himself and transformed.

"No!" he snapped at the young one, with unusual sharpness. "I can handle it."

He would, to, he silently swore to himself, as he disappeared into the forest, moving after Cyclonus. Even if it killed him. In his simmering annoyance, the blue transformer quickly dismissed the distinct possibility that it could.

* * *

Cyclonus felt like a bit of an idiot.

His hostage had behaved right up until the moment when he was flying over a particularly craggy area of rock, at which point he had leapt up and began savagely attacking the helicopters insides. This hurt. Quite a lot, actually.

With a snarl that came more from anger than pain, Cyclonus swooped down to land on a flat are of rock before he crashed onto the mountain side. To his further irritation, he noticed that he had not managed to land all that far away from the Autobot who had been chasing him for the last five minutes. Slag.

So it is here we find our heroes: one in possession of a homicidal Minicon, and the other about to engage him in battle. Both standing on the side of a mountain.

The universe is a strange thing. So is the planet Earth, for that matter. You can never be sure when they are going to suddenly turn on you in the most unexpected ways. Though the landscape may look, at first glance, to be lush, green and peaceful, with birds singing and the sun shining, who knows but Earth itself what unspeakable horrors nature's boundless beauty is about to unleash? The stars, for example, which looked to be pretty, innocent points of light, but also have a tendency to be involved in galactic wars with each other.

The birds had stopped singing. The mountain and the surrounding forest was completely still.

Had Red Alert or Cyclonus paused to notice these facts, one of them might have felt a tinge of foreboding. And neither Megatron nor Optimus Prime had very thoroughly researched the history of the land upon which they were now fighting.

Simply put, both Cyclonus and Red Alert were caught completely off guard when the earthquake struck.


	3. To Wait

"Death **and** taxes? What a strange combination." –Meet Joe Black

To Wait

As Thrust watched the wounded Autobot fall, he gave a rich chortle. Really, it was just too easy.

The tactician swooped down after his quarry, the gun cradled in his arms. He caught sight of Jetfire, lying still upon the ground, smoke wafting off his damaged back.

_Perfect_, he thought with a smirk, and came to hover about twenty metres away from him, admiring his work. It had been a masterly shot. Megatron _would_ be pleased.

Thrust raised the Requiem Blaster, taking careful aim. Had he been listening, he would have heard the faint sound of a jet engine coming in at a dangerously high speed. But such was the tactician's dedication to finishing a job that his audio receptors failed to pick it up.

Smiling grimly behind his faceplate, Thrust pulled the trigger. And there was light.

* * *

It was not a big one, nothing much on the Richter scale, but it was big enough. The mountain shook, and mounds of rock which had lane still for years began to tumble down its sides. Cracks started to open up in the rocky surface and there was low rumbling sound, not unlike the purr of a cosmic cat. 

Cyclonus gave a startled squawk, almost releasing his grip on the Minicon as the ground he stood upon began to quake.

"Huh? What's going on?!" he yelped in a voice suddenly ringing with panic.

There was a muffled mumble from his closed fist that implied his prisoner was demanding much the same thing.

Red Alert tried to remain calm, even as he felt the ground give way beneath his feet. But it all happened so fast. Faster than he would have believed anything unaffected by technology could be. In a series of flickering images he saw the huge crack that opened up below them both, saw the terrain seemed to roll like a great wave, saw several nearby trees collapse.

In his helpless, desperate state, a distant part of his mind thought, _Gee, Optimus is going to be angry about that._

He saw Cyclonus try to take off, only to be struck by a boulder thrown from the heaving mountain and hurled downwards into the very pit he, Red Alert the medic, was now in danger of falling.

He tried to think. He tried to be rational. He also tried to hold on to something. But not only was there an alarming lack of stable things to hold on to, there was also the frozen realization that he had no idea what to do. None at all. Why had he come out here, alone?! It was a stupid move, worthy of Jetfire at his most impulsive and Hot Shot at his most careless. He was reminded of all the times he had chided one or both of them for doing something very much like this. How charmingly ironic.

A sort of blind panic overtook him as his head connected sharply with something hard, and he went into stasis, even as he felt himself loose his grip entirely and fall.

* * *

Roughly a mile away, Optimus felt the earth tremble slightly. He looked around instantly, surveying his troops. Scavenger, Sideswipe and Blurr had said they were on their way and should be arriving any minute now. But that did not explain the absence of Jetfire, Red Alert and Starscream. 

_Oh, dear._

Optimus Prime cursed himself for being so wrapped up in his battle with Megatron that he had completely failed to notice. Hoist and Hot Shot were holding their own quite well, although he wondered how long it would be before Thrust returned.

_Red Alert, Scavenger, where are you?,_ he thought, his gaze briefly flickering towards the mountain.

* * *

There was indeed light. There was also movement. Before Thrust had time to realize what was happening, Starscream had appeared out of nowhere. One millisecond there had been a perfect beam of lilac death headed straight for the Autobot, the next there had been a rush of air and a flash of red and white. A human would have recognised the stench of heated metal and burnt oxygen. 

Starscream had been a hundred metres away when he had seen Thrust lower the gun to fire. He was fairly sure that he had moved faster at some point in his life, but could not remember exactly when.

Sonar, Jetstorm and Runway had only just finished forming the Star Sabre when he shot between Jetfire and the blast. His quartz-black fingers closed around the hilt and he leaned forward as the beam connected with the glowing blade.

He had done it before. Once. It was not an experience he had hoped to repeat. He felt the pressure, the unholy heat as the shot threatened to knock him over, leaving them both vulnerable. But the Minicons did not let him down, and he saw the light forming an arch around him as held it back.

It lasted only a second, yet it felt like a small, horrible eternity. Just as his limbs begged him to let go, the beam subsided and the world faded back into colour and sound.

Thrust blinked. What had happened there? His optics brightened as he squinted through his dust, and he froze in place when he realized who it was.

Starscream gave a low growling sound.

_Now, now, calm down_, Thrust told himself, despite the fact that he had almost suffered a full systems meltdown at the sight of the red seeker.

He was still holding the Requiem Blaster, and although Starscream had just withstood the force of the gun, he was already injured. Thrust's optics flickered over him, taking in every weakness and vulnerable point. The seeker's wings were still steaming from the heat, and his upper body was sagging slightly. Still, despite this and the nasty wound on his side from Megatron's fusion cannon, he still held the Star Sabre in a death grip, and Thrust was none to keen to attack. Truth told, he wouldn't be all that keen to attack even if the seeker were disarmed, chained and pouring fluid from every limb. Starscream had an unfortunate tendency of never having the courtesy to just die when things were at their worst. Generally, he never even had the courtesy to stop shouting.

Still…

Thrust felt the reassuring weight in his arms and was reminded of the painful encounter of a few weeks back. The tactician had a quietly vengeful streak running through him, which he rarely got the chance to satisfy. Maybe if he aimed _just _right…

In his moment of indecision, a shot rang out.

Thrust gasped and shot sideways in the air, the end of it singing his arm. He snarled and turned back to see who had fired the shot.

Jetfire stood on his feet, his faceplate cracked from the fall, holding his gun with the stance of a marksman. Although Thrust could not quite make out his expression, it was fairly obvious that the shuttle was very, very angry.

That clinched it. He may be prepared to face Starscream armed with Requiem Blaster but he was certainly not prepared to face Starscream holding a sword, with someone to watch his back.

Flipping backwards in the air, Thrust switched to jet mode and zoomed back towards the battle.

As the jet departed, Starscream noticed Jetfire swaying. He caught him before he fell, and they both sank to the ground to rest for a moment.

"Are you alright?", Starscream asked the white flier, his optics darkening as he took in Jetfire's damaged form.

Jetfire opened his mouth to form a reassuring lie, but decided he simply wasn't up to it.

"Uh…No…not really. I'll be okay," he added, trying to pretend that the loss of his wings wasn't making his spark cry out.

Starscream saw through the feeble attempt at good humour and hissed as he shifted around to survey Jetfire's back. Had Red Alert been there, he would have said that he had been lucky. The blast had skimmed passed the white armour so close that three inches to the left would have cut a major fuel line and endangered the flier's life.

Jetfire was extremely grateful that it was Starscream here instead of Red Alert. Starscream did not comment upon how lucky he had been, as a normal bot might have. The jet understood that, even though wings could be repaired, to lose even one of them was often enough to drive a flier into hysterics or a complete nervous breakdown. Wings were to aerial bots as skin was to humans.

Jetfire noticed that Starscream's hands were shaking ever so slightly. He paused, before reaching out to take hold of one of them, clenching it tightly.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Starscream gave a small, impatient grunt and shook his head. He made no move to take his hand back though, and it quickly stopped shaking. Runway beeped in concern, and Jetfire felt the need to reassure the little mech.

"It's fine, really. Okay, maybe it's not so fine but I'll live. Promise," he said, and winced at the patently disbelieving look Starscream threw at him.

"You can't lie properly to save your life, can you?" he stated, folding his arms. "Can you stand?"

Jetfire successfully managed to get to his feet, although there was an awkward moment when he was overcome by unbalance and almost toppled.

"So, should we head back to th-…"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the rumble and the trembling of the earth beneath his feet. At almost the same moment, a red race car shot out of the trees and screeched to a halt fifteen metres away from them.

It transformed into a frazzled Swindle, whose foot was being attacked by a squirrel. He cursed and tried unsuccessfully to kick it away, before picking up a dead branch and knocking it into the trees with one swipe. This done, he flung the branch back upon the ground and spun round to see the two transformers watching him in silence.

"Um…beep?" he said after a pause.

Starscream sighed and shook his head whilst Jetfire goggled, open-mouthed. Never before had he heard a Minicon curse. Very rarely had he heard anyone at all curse quite as loudly.

"Swindle, _what _are you doing here?" Starscream asked his partner in exasperation.

The Minicon threw him a dirty look.

"Coming to save your skidplate, Screamer! Maybe next time ya wanna wait for me before ya disappear into the horizon?", he retorted, obviously in something of a bad temper.

Starscream opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Jetfire.

"Wait, wait! He can talk? He can talk _normally_?"

"Not the most perceptive screw in the toolbox, are we?", muttered Swindle sourly.

"I'll explain later," sighed the jet. It was turning into a very long day.

* * *

Red Alert woke up and wished he hadn't. He gave a quiet groan, only because it hurt too much to give a loud one. 

When he had been much younger, before becoming one of the head medics of the Autobot army, he had once tried a cube of what was usually known as heavy energon. It was the transformer equivalent of alcohol, coffee and sugar, all mixed together in one glowing, beloved package. He had come back online three days later as a result of not having realized that he had taken in an amount that was almost potent enough to be lethal. The motherboard ache he had had then kept him locked in his room for a further six days. The one he had now was not quite on the same hideous scale, but it was close. Certainly closer than he had come from the last century or so.

He tried reactivating his optics, and was pleased to find that they still worked. Although, admittedly, this was not much help, as all he could make out in the darkness were unidentifiable shapes and shadows.

Steeling himself, the medic turned onto his back and sat up in the gloom, flinching as several new aches and pains began to make themselves known.

He brightened his optics to allow himself to survey the damage done. He was just giving a sigh of relief upon seeing that his armour was not seriously harmed, when he felt the tip of a very sharp blade press against his back.

Red Alert went very still.

"Who is that, please?" he said after a moment, in a voice of incredible calm. He tried to turn his head to get a glimpse of his hidden assailant, when the blade pressed against him a little harder.

"Don't move, laddie, or I'll slice you like a lump o' flesh."

Not Cyclonus. That much was obvious by the lack of a giggle at the end of the sentence. Red Alert was puzzling over this new development when he felt the pressure disappear, and felt something jump up upon his knee.

Shifting his gaze downwards, the Autobot felt his jaw drop once more. Standing upon his leg, still holding the axe as though it were an extension of his arm, was the Minicon.

"Oh. Hello," said Red Alert the Calm.

The smaller mech squinted up at him with narrowed optics, as though trying to make up his mind about something.

"You're not one o' those other biggies, are you?" he asked after a moment. His voice contained a strange accent, which Red Alert would have identified as the Davy Jones model, had he been human.

Red Alert thought for a moment, before saying slowly, "Do you mean, am I a Decepticon?"

The Minicon nodded vigorously, holding his axe in such a way that even Demolisher would have realized that the correct answer to this question was "No".

"No," said Red Alert.

The other eyed him suspiciously

"You sure?" he demanded, lowering the axe maybe half a centimetre.

Red Alert brightened his optic band, allowing the Minicon to see the Autobot symbol he bore. Satisfied, the other lowered his axe and nodded briskly to the Autobot medic.

"The name's Rave, and I'm here to sign up, officer," he declared, and gave a hearty salute.

* * *

Megatron snarled in frustration as yet another tree branch hit him in the face. 

Five minutes ago, realizing that the battle was wasting time and going nowhere, he had given the order to retreat but not to warp out. The remaining Decepticons had left the clearing, fanning out into the forest in different directions, in search of the second Minicon.

Megatron was running in the direction of the mountain, towards which he had seen Cyclonus fly. The Decepticon warlord was almost certain that, if left alone for more than eight seconds, Cyclonus would find some way of losing, dropping or sitting on the acquired Minicon.

Megatron was darkly reviewing the long, long list of his soldiers' various flaws when something silver shot across his path. His fine-tuned reflexes served the commander well, as he lifted up one foot and brought it crashing down right in the path of the silver and purple streak.

"Halt!", he barked, as though giving an order.

Skyscan froze. Not at the voice, but at the foot that had just planted itself ten inches in front of him.

Oh no…it was one of _**them**_…

Optics wide and aglow with horror, he looked up at the horned transformer. Who looked down at him with a smirk, before moving to scoop him up in one hand.

Not pausing to plan, to think, to even notice what faction the creature belonged to, Skyscan bolted. He darted between Megatron's legs, and ran for it, the angry roar following him as he moved. He dodged a blast from the fusion cannon and kept going as though hell itself was on his heels. Which, in a way, it was.

Damning nature, the planet, himself, the Minicon and just about everyone he could think of, Megatron started after Skyscan, leaving a trail of destruction and lumber in his wake.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Red Alert had ascertained that the Minicon was almost completely unharmed and his own injuries were small and easy to repair. He had also discovered some rather more unpleasant things, such as the fact that he seemed to be trapped underground with no way of reaching the surface. Above he could see a thin trip of light indicating that the crack in the earth had not closed entirely, thankfully. He stood at the bottom of a crevice, looking up at a line of light that shone through a crack twice as thin as the crevice itself. Were he able to fly, he would still need a big mallet to make a hole wide enough to grant him exit. 

Red Alert stood there for a minute, reflecting that, despite his greatest efforts, he was really starting to hate this planet.

He started walking upon the uneven surface, to see if maybe there was a way out further along. Rave ran to keep up with him, as a result of having heatedly denied Red Alert's suggestion that he travelled on the Autobot's shoulder.

A hundred metres on, he came across Cyclonus.

Red Alert stood for a moment like a deer caught in headlights, before reason came to his aide. He had Rave near him, who was lethal enough. The area seemed to have stabilized, so there was little chance of a fight causing another quake. And he was relatively unharmed, whilst Cyclonus looked as though he'd been towed for eighteen miles over rough terrain.

He hesitated, before slowly approaching the smallest Decepticon. As he drew near, Cyclonus gave a quiet groan, and turned on his side, curling into ball as much as was possible for a giant robot. Red Alert stifled a gasp. His unprotected back showed a great many exposed wires, throwing off occasional sparks. As far as he medic could tell, the helicopter was still locked in stasis.

He heard a strange growling noise beside his feet, and saw Rave suddenly charge forward, holding the axe aloft. Acting quickly, he snatched up the smaller one, who instantly began beating up his hand.

"Let me go! Right now, laddie! Let me go before I-…"

"Will you be quiet?" hissed Red Alert. The Minicon glared at him before continuing to struggle. Red Alert did what he did best; makeshift therapy.

"I know you feel strongly about this-…" he began, before being cut off.

"Look, laddie, you're an Autobot, right?" he demanded. "He's one o' the enemy! And he's not even moving! Why can't I cut up the scummy wretch, eh? What's he ever do for you?"

Red Alert counted to ten and kept a tight grip upon the reins of patience. Privately, he also wondered where Rave had developed such a rabid dedication to his chosen career.

"Yes, he is one of the enemy. I know that," said the ambulance evenly. "I am also aware that there are probably a great number of Autobots who would agree with your views. But I personally like to believe that there are more differences between Autobots and Decepticons than our attitudes towards Minicons. And, unfortunately, _**I **_am your superior officer."

Rave opened his mouth, paused, and shut it again. Something in Red Alert's voice towards the end of his speech had hinted that although there were a great many times when eagerness and a fighting spirit were useful, this was not one of them. It had also suggested that every man has a snapping point, and the capable Red Alert had endured quite enough nonsense for one day.

He stepped back and folded his arms with a curt nod, looking sullen.

Congratulating himself on having pacified his volatile companion, Red Alert moved carefully towards Cyclonus. As he drew closer, he realized that the damage was far more severe than he had first supposed.

When he sat down on his knees beside the copter and started to activate the repair-laser on his right arm, Rave went up in smoke.

"Wha-wha-what- Primus, what do ye think you're doing? You can't-you wouldn't actually- you can't repair the lousy nutter!"

"Yes, Rave, that is exactly what I am doing, and I'm fairly sure that I can.", said the Autobot, his experienced optics looking for a place to begin.

"But-but-but why?!" cried Rave.

Red Alert was beginning to deeply regret having left Longarm behind to take care of the base. He wouldn't have asked questions, but would have simply gotten on with the task of assisting his partner.

"Because chances are good we're going to have to wait until the others find us, and it's something to do. Because it's the Right Thing To Do. And because I'm a medic. It's my job."

_And because when they say that a medic is supposed to commit his life to helping others, they do not specify which faction,_ thought Red Alert. _And because I became a medic so I wouldn't have to choose between pacifism and duty. And because I'm stupid._

Rave stood gaping as Red Alert set his laser to work and began repairs on the wounded Decepticon.


	4. To Wish

Sorry this one took a little time, and thanks again to all who reviewed last time. Will try to get the next one out quickly.

"Where is fancy bread? In the heart, or in the head?"

May a rain of onions fall at the feet of the person who can remind me where that was from. Erm…and returning to the real world, here's chapter four, enjoy!

To Wish

Scavenger had stepped on a squirrel. Sideswipe could have killed him.

He had just been starting to enjoy the ramble, the peace, the quiet, the sanctity of nature, when he had heard a horrible wet crunch and seen the older Autobot inspecting the bottom of his foot with an expression of uncharacteristic revulsion.

"Aw, Scavenger, sir, did you _have_ to do that? Ugh…"

Scavenger had the decency to look sheepish, and removed the mess by inauspiciously wiping his foot against a tree.

"Eh…sorry 'bout that, guys," he muttered as Sideswipe gave a quiet shudder.

"Will you both hurry up?" said Blurr impatiently. The blue sniper was in a hurry to get to the battle and offer assistance to Optimus and his comrades. Their lack of haste, coupled with all the other distractions the day had so far offered, was serving to grate upon his nerves. Scavenger gave the younger bot a sideways look, his lips twitching into an amused grin at his impatience.

"Hold your horses, kid, Optimus and the others can hold their own just fine without us. Besides, you might not have noticed, but we outnumber 'em two to one now. I'm sure our fearless leader wouldn't mind if we searched for the 'con on the way."

Blurr gave a reluctant nod, and glanced around himself absently. He himself was beginning to doubt the existence of the Minicon they were supposed to be looking for. On the com-link, Optimus had said that the Decepticons had managed to snatch one of them, but the other was still unfound. Between Scavenger's inherent slowness and Sideswipe, who had developed a new level of clumsiness in the overgrown woods, Blurr doubted that they would catch up to the Minicon by the next full moon.

It was difficult, sometimes, being the only one who seemed to take his job seriously.

He did not raise his concerns with Scavenger, however. One thing the ex-'mercenary' would not do was brook any disagreement or admit that he was wrong. Okay, so he never _was _wrong, but… whenever anyone tried to contradict or argue with him he would look at them in that sideways type of way, saying nothing but his whole face a billboard reading "Oh, really?"

Blurr looked around him half-heartedly, not really thinking that any Minicon was about to suddenly pop into existence before his eyes. Sideswipe had, for some reason, formed an unexpected attachment to the big mess of green around them, and had for a few minutes now been commenting on how cool, rad and just plain great the woods were. One of his main recurring points had been how they allowed for moments of thought and quiet reflection.

Well, Blurr had been stalking through them for a few hours now and he was reflecting on the fact that this whole mission was extremely stupid.

"See anything, Sideswipe?" he called to the youngest Autobot.

Sideswipe frowned, gazing at the Minicon detector he had been issued with.

'I dunno, I'm definitely picking up something, but it's running all over the place. Almost like it's being-…"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the unmistakable sound of Megatron's fusion cannon, about a quarter mile from where they stood. Listening carefully, Blurr was sure he could make out the sound of a tree crashing to the ground and an infuriated voice shouting threats.

"…-chased," finished Sideswipe, looking a good less happy than he had a moment ago.

As they started moving, Blurr kept his optics firmly averted to Scavenger, whose face now screamed a silent , "I told you so."

* * *

Cyclonus groaned. 

_Oh, geez…is that the Minicon alarm again? I swear, one of these days I'm just gonna take that thing and shove down someone's…_

At which point it suddenly occurred to the slumbering Decepticon that the alarm on the moon-base was usually a great deal louder and higher pitched. Also, it didn't sound quite so close to his audios. Also, it didn't make him wake up feeling that every part of his body had been jumped on by Tidal Wave.

He opened one green optic. And screamed.

Red Alert gasped as his 'patient' stared at him and the active repair-laser in frozen horror before shooting backwards at the speed of light.

"GAAYYYK! Get the slag back, Auto-snot! I'm warning you!"

"Wait-…" Red Alert tried, but to no avail.

The copter-bot managed to back up a further three steps before stumbling and collapsing to the ground. Blue sparks crackled of his left leg, and he lay on the floor, whining in pain. Red Alert sighed and stood, walking towards the downed Decepticon. The instant Cyclonus noticed him, however, he seemed to forget his injuries, and raised one arm in a position to fire should the medic take one step further.

"Back off, Autobot," he growled.

"You're not going to shoot me," said Red Alert simply, "because I took the precaution of taking your weaponry out of action before I began repairing you. You're still in need of a few touch ups, so don't try moving too fast just yet. I could finish, if you let me."

Cyclonus looked poised to snarl back a reply similar to his last one, before one phrase managed to hit home.

"...Wha-You never repaired me," he mumbled as one of his optics gave a lively spark. He shut it with a wince and continued.

"Don't try that one on me, whadjathink I am, stupid or something? Heh, I may be crazy, tree-lover, but I'm not stupid!"

Another phrase seemed to have connected to his motherboard, now that that one was out of the way.

"Hey! What do you mean you broke my guns?! Those were my guns, you lousy rat! _I said keep back!_"

The last sentenced was screamed out, as Red Alert, impatience overcoming him, had tried to approach Cyclonus while he ranted. He stopped, wondering why Cyclonus was staring at him with a blatant combination of fury and fear. It was that moment he realized that he had not deactivated the pink repair-ray on his arm, and in the dim light of the cavern, it was covering him with an eerie glow. Berating himself for not remembering, he switched it off.

Cyclonus relaxed about three molecules. He had lowered his now useless gun and was attempting to stand once more. Red Alert opened his mouth to give warning once more, before giving up. With a noise of exasperation the blue mech turned and headed back to sit against the stony wall of the crevice.

Rave had been watching the proceedings in silence, obviously of the opinion that Red Alert was getting no more than he deserved. Which, the medic supposed, he was.

Twenty metres away, Cyclonus gave a yelp as his leg threw off blue sparks once more.

* * *

Skyscan would have given a lot for a pair of ruby slippers right about now. 

_There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home…_

Behind him, there was the sound of yet another fusion blast coming into contact with the ground. By now, Megatron, despite all warnings from Leader-One, had almost totally forgotten the point of his mission in his new quest to destroy the horrible little silver thing that was causing him to suffer so. The power he could gain from the Minicon no longer seemed quite as important as teaching it and the rest of the universe that he was not a person to be trifled with.

Skyscan whimpered, and ran faster.

He himself had forgotten the ray-gun he had holstered at his waist, but even if he had remembered it, the idea of using it against the metallic behemoth now chasing him would have only been worthy of a sick, derisive laugh.

He was not much of a schemer, yet he set his mind to the task now. How, how, how to lose this creature, preferably before ending up in a pile of spare parts? How to avoid capture by the other wretched giants, who were almost certainly lurking around somewhere?

The idea hit him so suddenly that for one suicidal moment, he almost stopped running.

_Yes…that might work…it would be risky, and he would have to be fast, but he was good at being fast…_

Skyscan made up his mind. As he hurtled headlong through the undergrowth, he kept glancing from side to side, and listened out for any sign of the Autobots.

And, as he was not only a lousy schemer, but also pretty bad with navigating, he ended up heading in exactly the wrong direction.

* * *

After several minutes of attempting self-repairs, Cyclonus had been reduced to sitting back and sulking. After this phase had passed, he had moved around as best he could, peering up at the ceiling in hopes that it might offer a way out. With his rotor bent at a right angle and one of his legs malfunctioning, flying out was hardly an option. 

And he somehow doubted that Megatron would send out the cavalry to find him. His typical role was one of a handy distraction or target for the enemy, whilst his comrades got on with the important stuff that Megatron was smart enough not to let him meddle with. It was a pretty rotten role, all things considered, but it kept life interesting, and it did mean that he had some experience in not getting slagged easily.

So his leader would almost certainly not be out looking for him, as he had long ago made the assumption that Cyclonus could survive anything, as long as his limbs weren't scattered too widely. Not entirely true, and also pretty rotten, but it had built him up a reputation in the army at least…

Rambling again. Scrap.

Finally, he had settled back again, and stared at Red Alert at the other end of the cavern in stony silence. It might have been the Autobot's imagination, but there was something faintly accusing about his look.

"…What?" Red Alert said after a while.

The other said nothing, but the look intensified.

"I believe the officer just asked ye a question, ye scurvy lad."

Slowly, Cyclonus turned his head to see Rave, who stood glaring at him, his fingers drumming on the hilt of his axe.

"Um…you're the Minicon?" he said after a pause, his voice hesitant in the way of all those who suddenly get hit in the face by the universe throwing a curveball at them.

"Indeed I am, an' I believe that-…"

"Let it go, Rave," Red Alert said wearily. He had a nasty suspicion that, keen or not, the newest addition to the Autobot forces was going to be something of a trial. Rave snapped his sideways to look at him, bristling before settling back into silence. And now Red Alert had two pairs of accusing eyes on him. The patient medic felt a little fuse in his head begin to simmer.

"Will you stop that?" he snapped a after a few minutes of silent torture.

"_You_ broke my guns," muttered Cyclonus darkly.

"Aargh…I…look, point one, it is not my fault we're stuck here, okay? Point two, if I hadn't 'broken' your guns I'd be lying on the floor leaking fluid by now."

At this, Cyclonus gave a sudden, vicious grin.

"Got _that_ right", he sniggered.

The Decepticon sighed and swore as yet again his leg threw off blue sparks.

"You're going to go offline if you don't get repaired pretty soon.", commented Red Alert mildly, earning himself a filthy look from the other.

It took another ten minutes and about fifty failed attempts as standing before Cyclonus began to crack. He looked at the Autobot from the corner of his optic, and wondered if there was any way of scaling the near vertical walls. Nope. He spent a while darkly considering just how much the planet Earth sucked. He tried to move. He looked around for any sign of a rescue team. He gave up.

Red Alert turned his head towards the sound of an industrious sigh from the wounded flier. Cyclonus looked back at him, suspicion and indecision scrawled all over his face.

Finally, he said, "Y'know, if you're gonna scrap me, you could just do it with a shot through the head if you aim it right..."

"Yes, I could," acknowledged Red Alert.

Cyclonus stared at him, a galactic inner war going on inside the jagged confines of his soul.

"So I guess…", he began, and trailed off.

Red Alert paused, before saying, "Look, I'll tell you what. If I repair you, will you fly me out of here?"

Comprehension dawned on the other's face.

"_Ooh_…y'mean, like a trade?" he said.

"_Yes_.", confirmed Red Alert in relief. "And after that, we can go back to killing each other. I'll even let you hit me first."

The helicopter's face clouded once more.

"Except, you won't give me my guns back, will you?" he muttered.

"No. No, I won't do that. But, to be fair, I won't shoot you."

"Slaggit."

The copter gave a grunt, before saying, "Okay, I guess you'd better get started then."

For a minute, the medic could not believe it. Catching the look of disbelief on his face, Cyclonus glared, and said, "Look, that's it, okay? You repair me, I fly us out, we're even. I shoot at you, you shoot at me, same as always. And you'd better not cripple me, Autobot, 'cause I've still got my arms to work with and that means I can still rip your head off!"

Mutely, Red Alert nodded, before rising to his feet and walking over to tend to the helicopter's wounded leg.

* * *

Alexis growled as she decided that killing all four of the idiot boys would not be a good idea. At least, not just yet.

_When this is over, and we're heading home, the minute we pass some heavy traffic. One good push should do it…_

She was travelling on Hoist's shoulder, whilst the boys stood near Hot Shot, who was currently trying to reach either Red Alert or Jetfire on his transmitter. With the departure of Megatron and the Decepticons, the Autobots had returned to their previous task of contacting their comrades and getting a lock on the Minicon. Unfortunately, the earthquake that had wracked the landscape half an hour ago had disrupted Laserbeak's sensitive tracking equipment. And, as luck would have it, Optimus had left the only two scanners in the hands of the absent Sideswipe and Red Alert.

Suffice it to say, and to Alexis's utter amazement, they were now lost.

Well, not quite lost. None of the males present, due to what she was sure was a technical glitch in the male psyche, was willing to admit that they were anything other than 'slightly off target at this point'.

Fred and Carlos had gotten into a fight over the remaining bag of pretzels. Carlos was undoubtedly the better fighter, but Fred had uncanny strength when he was protecting food. Rad and Billy had sat on the sides, making bets as to who the ultimate victor would be, long after giving up on trying to part the incensed combatants. After about fifteen minutes of this, they had calmed down, and were now deciding the issue in a way more befitting the most intelligent species on Earth.

"Rock…paper…scissor! Aw, man, you win again!"

"Hah! Hand over the pretzels, Carl!"

"No way! Best of twenty!"

"You're on!"

Alexis growled again and covered her ears.

_I had a life once. Hmm. What happened to that?_

What amazed the human girl was how much patience Optimus had when it came to the kids and their various antics. Occasionally he spoke to them in a stern voice, but most often he just chuckled. Personally, Alexis thought it had something to do with the fact that he knew he would outlive them by about a million years. She wished she could say the same.

She sighed, and scanned the sky once more for any sign of either Jetfire or Starscream.

* * *

Sideswipe's Minicon detector had located a Minicon, at last. In this case, one that was not constantly changing it's position. He informed the two others that it was to be found on the mountain. As a matter of fact, judging from the faint signal he was getting, it looked as though it was down a hole or crevice of some kind.

All three Autobots were ready to give up on finding the first Minicon they had detected, as it seemed to be moving away from them. Very quickly, as it happened.

So when the young decoder relayed the new information to his comrades, they both nodded, and started to head towards the mountain.

* * *

Jetfire was unable to fly. Not surprising, really, but when the realization had dawned it had taken all his will power to neither weep hysterically nor open fire on the nearest moving target. This was good; Starscream was the next moving target.

Starscream supported his weight as the two flyers made their way through the forest, listening out for signs of the others. It wasn't hard really-one thing the Autobots and the Decepticons had in common was their tendency to make a lot of noise wherever they went.

Starscream himself wasn't too badly injured, although the indirect rays from the Requiem Blaster had singed his wings and peeled some of the paint from his hands, leaving them patched with white.

He cast a worried glance at his companion's back. The stumps of his beautiful wings had stopped bleeding, finally, but the burns were painful to look at, and hideously obvious against his cloud-white finish. Quietly, Starscream had decided that the next time he met Thrust in the air, powerful gun or no powerful gun, the tactician was going to get a sabre merrily shoved down his neck. A dark smile played across the seeker's lips, and he took care not to let Jetfire see. Somehow, he suspected his pacifist partner would not appreciate the gesture.

"Hm. Hey, Jetfire," he said after a while, surprise tinting his voice, "My scanners are picking something up."

"Really?" said Jetfire hopefully. He was loathe to let the others see him like this, but the sooner they met up the sooner they could find the stupid, stupid, stupid Minicon and leave. His back hurt horribly, his legs was badly dented and he was quite anxious to put this mission and its horrible, horrible location behind him. He was currently without his faceguard, as the fall had succeeded in cracking it to such an extent that wearing it was like wearing a mask of glass splinters.

_I hate this planet_, thought the white shuttle, whose typical good humour had dwindled to nothing over the last half hour.

"No, he was just making a funny joke. He does that a _lot,_" drawled Swindle, who rode alongside the two bots, close enough to discourage any further attacks from fluffy woodland creatures.

"Shut it, Swindle," Starscream snapped in a warning voice. "I think it's a Minicon, and it's coming from somewhere in the mountains."

"Sure you're not just saying that to escape the greenery, boss?" muttered Swindle, and ducked just in time to avoid a swipe.

"_**I**_ make the jokes around here," growled Jetfire. Beside him, Starscream chuckled quietly.

The three started to make their way to the rocky slopes nearby.


	5. To Want

Thanks much to those who informed me of the origin of that quote. Mmm….chocolate… wonder what exactly is 'fancy bread'? Is it those baguette things? Or croissants? Or toast? Not going to be able to update for a little while, due to those pesky study duties I mentioned earlier. Will probably get down to it in a couple of weeks, though.

Oh, yeah, today's little quiz: Can anyone tell me what happened to Sideways after he turned into a glob of floating cosmic goo? I know he got into the Autobot computers a few times, but where did he go after that? Did Unicron supply him with satanic caravan to stay in when neither faction could stand him anymore? Would dearly love to know. Thanks for reviews, here's chapter five, hope you like…

To Want

It took five minutes more running before Skyscan heard them.

And it was just in time, too. The only advantage he had over the enraged tyrant behind him was his ability to slip through the trees. And, when those trees exploded into splinters moments later, there were always more to run towards.

He turned sharply to the left, narrowly escaping the metallic black finger which snatched at him. Darting swiftly through the ancient trunks, he saw a flash of blue and red ahead of him.

And just to think, a few hours ago his one goal in life was to avoid the two mechs he was now caught between. Skycan gave a sudden, nasty little giggle, which bordered too much on the hysterical for his liking.

"Gods help me," he muttered, steeling himself.

Not wasting another second, the little silver transformer shot out of the trees, and headed straight for Optimus Prime's legs.

Optimus was just beginning to wonder what on earth he was going to do now, when he saw the Minicon leap from the trees and charge towards him.

"Hey, Hoist, heads up! It's the Minicon!" cried out Hot Shot in relief, from somewhere near the kids.

The Autobot leader's optics noticed what others wouldn't have. The Minicon did not look as though it had any plans of stopping. Had Hot Shot or Jetfire been in Prime's place, they would have instinctively made a grab for him, but since Optimus was Optimus, he pondered as to why the Minicon moved as though he was sprinting through enemy territory.

He was just beginning to ponder when, three seconds later, Megatron appeared before the Autobot, snarling and making incoherent little growling noises.

There was a pause as the tyrant wrenched his possessed optics from his quarry and took in the sight of the three Autobots standing before him. His jaw dropped open a fraction.

"…No…" he murmured to himself, softly.

It was unbecoming for a leader such as he to stand so utterly shell-shocked, especially in the presence of his greatest enemy, but there were times when he just couldn't believe it. He had been alive for six million years, he had travelled to the farthest corners of the galaxy, he had thought he had seen it all, and then he had come to planet Earth. Even now, after a year of living on the Moon, he still could not believe it.

_**Planet**__? This is no planet_, he thought in absolute disgust. _This is a privatised version of _**hell**

Shutting off his blood-red optics, Megatron clenched his fists and released them again. Fine. He could deal with this. If a year of this crummy little rock hadn't finished him off yet, by gods it wasn't going to now!

Setting his massive intellect to the task of devising a scheme, summing up his surroundings and the situation he found himself in, Megatron swiftly arrived at a battle plan. With a roar, he drew back a fist and, with great care, slammed it into his nemesis' face.

* * *

Through all his fear, Skyscan felt just a little smug. It had worked beautifully, better than even he would have expected. As he had predicted, within three seconds they were fighting like dogs in a pit.

He was just getting his first taste of actual enjoyment for days when a shadow loomed over him. Dread took up its usual spot in his heart as he gazed up towards the blindingly yellow and red individual who had shot to his side. With a feeling of resignation he watched as a giant hand swooped down to snatch him up.

But there was something else as well. Slowly, the fear and panic faded, to expose something hard and cold within Skyscan's soul. His purple optics narrowed.

Hot Shot had run forth to pick up the Minicon and get him out if the battlefield before he was harmed. He was therefore very surprised when the silver mech whipped out a small stun pistol, slid effortlessly into a shooting stance, and fired.

The ray was not designed to kill transformers, but when it connected with Hot Shot's shoulder at point blank range, he gave a yell and jerked back instantly.

At the sound, both Megatron and Optimus looked up from where their fight was beginning, and watched as Hot Shot grabbed his shoulder cursing, whilst the Minicon he stood in front of looked around wildly. And at that moment, even Megatron would have had his misgivings about trying to abduct him. There was a mad, feral look upon his face, and his eyes glowed with fervour and hatred.

Skyscan stood trembling, before catching sight of the two leaders staring a him, frozen. The sight of them calmed him, brought the bubbling panic in his spark under control, and he gave them both an evil little smile.

Enjoyable as it had been, he was bright enough not to try for another shot. Instead, he holstered his gun once more, glanced around briefly, and started running again, leaving the two behind him to tear each other apart as they wished.

The freeze lasted all of three seconds after Skyscan disappeared once more.

"He shot me!" exclaimed Hot Shot, in astonishment, looking at the wound upon his shoulder.

The spell was broken. Abruptly, Megatron turned and fired off his fusion cannon, catching the young Autobot on his other shoulder, before spinning around and charging after the Minicon with a strange little growling noise. Optimus and the other bot immediately darted to their comrades side, as he had known they would.

As Megatron realized what direction the creature was heading in, he gave a cold smile, like a shark scenting blood. Activating his com-link, the Decepticon commander ordered his men to head for the mountain slopes.

* * *

"Y'know, it's times like this when I kinda miss the old stack of paperwork. It was getting to be like a friend, you know? I mean, sure, it was a boring conversationalist and it took up all the space under my bed but…"

"You're delusional. You are aware of that, right?"

Jetfire grimaced as he glanced up at the skies. Starscream was carrying the Star Sabre over one shoulder, after the Air Defence team had complained that 'their feet were getting tired'. Jetfire sometimes suspected that the Minicons enjoyed seeing how far they could push their adoptive master.

"It's possible," he conceded. "Tell you what, let's test it. I see rain clouds. Do you also see rain clouds?"

"Yes. Yes, I do see rain clouds."

"That's not good."

"I hate rain," said Starscream unexpectedly. Jetfire looked sideways at his companion as they made their way up the rocky slope. Starscream said he hated a lot of things. What was tricky was finding out what things he really hated and what things he just wanted to hate.

"Really?" he asked.

Starscream grunted and continued walking.

"I actually like it, sometimes,", continued Jetfire, in defiance of the other's silence. "I mean, it's pretty, it's fun to fly in…"

He trailed off. Flying was a sensitive subject to him at the moment.

Starscream noticed, as he always did. Making a small noise of sympathy, he raised a hand and gently stroked the stump of one of his lost wings. It was an uncharacteristically comforting gesture from the volatile seeker, and Jetfire was entirely unsure how to express his gratitude. He suddenly wanted to say something to his companion, to tell him how grateful he was that he had come to his aide, how glad that it wasn't anybody else he was stuck here with, how much the loss of his wings hurt. Instead, he reached out and briefly squeezed Starscream's hand tightly once more.

"Still, I can understand if you don't like it.", he muttered absently as they continued.

Indeed he could. After all, the last time Starscream had been caught in the rain…

The seeker did not reply, but turned to look at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

"How do you _do_ that?", he said, tilting his head to the side.

"What?"

"That weird…head-reading thing you do."

Jetfire blinked in confusion.

"Um…Starscream, never thought I'd say this, but this is the least amount of sense you have ever made," he commented. "Should I be worried?"

Again, the jet did not reply, but suddenly gave a quiet, inexplicable smile. Then he said "Come on, hurry up. The sooner we get the Minicon the sooner we can get you repaired. Unless, of course, you want to be a wingless wonder for the rest of your days…"

They continued their slow ascent. Overhead, the ominous clouds drew closer.

* * *

Finishing the repairs took a further twenty minutes. During which Cyclonus realized something. The Autobot didn't believe him.

In a way, it was reassuring. Autobots not trusting Decepticons was how things were supposed to be in Cyclonus's version of the universe. And, in a way, it stung him a great deal. Autobots were _supposed_ to be trusting fools. That was one of their defining traits. So when Red Alert had proposed the deal, Cyclonus had been safe in the certainty that, no matter what he said, the Autobot would believe him. And, at first, it seemed to have worked.

But then he had noticed a few things. For example, the way the medic kept heaving sighs, as if he was wondering why he bothered. Like the way he hadn't held a gun to the copters head, in case he flew off without him. Like the way he seemed, unlike most medics Cyclonus had encountered in his existence, to actually know what he was doing. Which lead Cyclonus to realize that he must be kind of smart. And no guy who even half-smart would fall for the word of a Decepticon. Heck, Cyclonus wasn't even half-smart but he was still bright enough not to fall for a trick like that. Most of the time he didn't even believe himself.

So then, after this realization, the question had arisen: Why? Why, why, why the slag was this loony actually helping him, an enemy, when he must surely know it would only get him into more trouble?

The answer occurred to Cyclonus, and it made him mad. He was being an _**Autobot.**_

Just to prove how damn righteous and radiant he was, the slagging jerk was repairing an enemy who would almost certainly abandon him. And, along with that simmering thought, came another one.

Who did this guy think he was? He was an_** Autobot**_. That meant he was supposed to be soft and stupid and trusting. So why didn't he believe Cyclonus?

Oh, yeah. He was a _**Decepticon**_, and Decepticon's **never** kept promises. Decepticons were _all_ disloyal psychos like Starscream or useless suck-ups like Demolisher. Well, not him! Cyclonus was strongly against conforming to stereotypes of any kind. It was a principle. He _was_ useless and he _was_ a psycho, but he was _loyal_! And, what was more, he did keep his word. Sometimes.

Admittedly, he had had no intention of keeping his word to the Autobot who was now finishing up his leg, but he **might** have done. The thought that the Autobot would instantly disbelieve him just because he was a Decepticon made the helicopter's fuel boil.

It took approximately twenty seconds of thinking to himself for Cyclonus to work himself into a filthy temper.

Well, fine then! He'd show him, the self-righteous, hypocritical piece of scrap!

Red Alert stood back as Cyclonus stood up, inspecting himself with exaggerated care. The helicopter did not deign to look him in the face, for some reason, and Red Alert asked himself one more time why on earth he was doing this. Letting a dangerous enemy get away, even making it easier for him! If Optimus found out, he would demote the medic on the spot.

"Hmph," said Cyclonus, peering at his leg, almost disappointed to find no flaws in the medic's work.

"Good," he said shortly. "Let's get going."

There was a derisive snort from the other end of the cavern, and Rave raised his optics to look upon the two in disgust and amusement.

"Ye can cut that out now, laddie. The crazy lad's repaired ye, so stop pretending, hmm? I don't believe for one nanosecond that ye actually intend keeping yer end o' the bargain, and to be frank I doubt he trusts you either," he said, gesturing to Red Alert.

"Rave…" the blue Autobot said in a warning voice.

"Hey!" snapped Cyclonus, interrupting suddenly. "Just shut up, okay? Jeez, you're just as bad as ambulance-boy, aren't you? I mean, just 'cause I'm a 'Con, you think… you…you just…ah, krell, forget it. Y'know, I might actually not bring you back to Megatron, you little twerp! Maybe I'll just step on you or throw you off a cliff or something, that's what I'd do to an Autobot! And you act more like a lousy Autobot than the lousy Autobot does!"

He stopped suddenly when he noticed that both mechs were staring at him in silence.

"Uh…yeah…" he trailed off, feeling strangely self-conscious for the first time in his life. "So…are we going to get moving or what? I mean, I've got plans for later and…"

Red Alert watched the Decepticon as he trailed off, mumbling to himself. Cyclonus caught the look, and stood up straight again, giving an indignant sniff. He transformed and hovered in mid-air, unpleasantly aware of the nearness of the walls around him.

"Hey! Medic! You coming or what?"

Red Alert opened his mouth to voice his astonishment, before common sense leapt in and told him that this would be a very stupid thing to do. When a maniac does something sane, the intelligent thing to do is always enjoy it while it lasts. Besides, something in the heat of the helicopter's previous rant had rung true.

As Red Alert and Rave took hold of his landing rails, Cyclonus began to rise, barely noticing the weight. He had carried Demolisher before, after all, and little could strain the small Decepticon after that. Ignoring the Minicon's squeaking suspicions that he may well suddenly drop them both when he reached the top, Cyclonus ascended, allowing himself to feel just a little smug.

_Heh…may be a nut, but I get _some_ things right_, he thought to himself, and gave a little giggle.

After all, he would be slagged if anyone would question his Decepticon honour as a dishonourable Decepticon.

* * *

Scavenger's team arrived first.

"Sideswipe…" growled Blurr. Sideswipe stared at the detector in disappointment and confusion.

"That's weird," he commented, tapping it lightly. "It say that the Minicon's supposed to be around here somewhere."

"How about there?" said the unshakable Scavenger, although even he would admit to a faint trace of surprise.

Sideswipe turned to see where he was pointing, and his jaw sagged. A little way away, there was a large crack in the flat surface of the bare plateau. It ran a jagged line across the rock, with edges like cracked pottery. The rest of the landscape was mostly untouched by the earthquake, except for a few trees being felled where the rift had extended down to the forest.

However, none of these things were half as surprising as what Sideswipe watched rising out of the crack itself.

"Is that…Cyclonus?" he gasped.

Rising from the dark crevice like a malformed harbinger of the Apocalypse was the orange Decepticon. Latched on to his landing rails were-and here Sideswipe wondered if he was going mad- Red Alert and a red and green Minicon, who kept shouting warnings to the helicopter.

"Watch out for the side…Careful!...Don't jolt so much, you're going to throw us off, ye scurvy half-wit…_Mind the rock_!"

Sideswipe looked at Blurr, who seemed on the edge of a nervous breakdown. The dark blue Autobot had a very fixed idea of the universe, and any way he looked at it, this simply did not fit.

"Well, _there_'s something you don't see every day," commented Scavenger.

Red Alert grimaced as they reached the top of the crevice. Apart from an innate fear of heights, being carried aloft by a highly unstable Decepticon was not how he enjoyed spending his every waking hour. Cyclonus had to jolt quite considerably when they passed through the narrow opening in the earth, at which point Red Alert shut off his optic band and muttered a prayer under his breath. He could have imagined it, but he could have sworn he heard the copter-bot chuckling.

Only when the medic felt his feet connect to the ground did he dare look down. He almost swooned with relief at the realization that he was safely on firm ground again, not hanging perilously waiting to go 'splat' upon it. Glad to note that his fingers had not frozen stiff from sheer terror, he let go of the rail. With his left hand, he caught Rave as he did the same.

Cyclonus transformed and stretched, ignoring both the Autobot and the Minicon. Privately, Red Alert debated whether or not to actually thank him, before deciding against it.

Then he noticed the other Autobots.

Never in his life had the medic been so dismayed at the sight of his comrades. Really, it was too much. First losing the Minicon, then falling into a canyon, then having to deal with a psychotic 'Con and an equally psychotic Minicon, then flying and now **this?!**

_Oh, it is just too perfect. When I could actually use the help, when I'm stuck down in a cave with nothing but my own resources to save me, everyone's got something better to do. But when I've sorted things out, when I've disarmed the bad guy and saved the Minicon without anyone's assistance, then they arrive in droves. And __**now **__they're going to ask me if I need any help…_

"Hey, Red, need some help?" called out Scavenger, and was surprised when he received a growl in reply.

"Red Alert, get down!" commanded Blurr, drawing his rifle and bringing it up to his optic level. Pointing straight at Cyclonus, who stood there like a deer caught in headlights.

Sometimes, Red Alert just wanted scream. They had no idea what was going on, he had given no indication that he needed their help…

"Wait! Stop!" he called out frantically to his comrades, holding up his arms. "Don't shoot!"

"…Huh?" said Blurr, as his careful aiming suddenly distracted by the uncharacteristic madness on Red Alert's part.

"What are you talking about, Red Alert, sir?" asked Sideswipe in confusion. "There's a Decepticon behind you!"

"Yes. I noticed that," Red Alert grated, resisting the urge to shriek. He gathered together every last remaining shred of calm and control he had, and said, "He's not armed. I disabled his guns. He's not a danger to us at the moment. I've got the-…"

"Red Alert, will you get out of the way?" snapped Blurr impatiently, bringing his laser up once more. If the medic wanted to have a moment of insanity, that was his problem, Blurr was only here to do his job. And Red Alert felt a little wire in his head go 'twang'. His face contorted and his hand became a fist.

"Shut._ UP!"_ he roared, his voice morphing from a hiss to a near-scream.

Blurr blinked and jerked back, almost losing his grip on the gun. Scavenger, for once, seemed completely thrown.

"You are not in command here!" Red Alert continued, still talking a great deal louder than strictly necessary. "You weren't here when I needed you, so _don't _ignore me and _don't_ patronize me! And lower that gun, for Primus's sake! I just gave you a direct order not to fire, were you _listening_? I said he is disarmed, and I have recruited the Minicon, all without any help from you or anyone else! _As_ _usual!"_

All three stared at him in horror and astonishment, experiencing the sudden fear all men will experience if a stable art of reality becomes unstable.

In a fractionally more sane voice, he managed to get out the words, "You are ordered to stand down. Right now, please Blurr. Thank you for coming to my assistance but, as you see, I am perfectly fine now. And, Blurr, for the final time _put that bloody gun down!"_

When he finished, there was a distinct air of silence, even from the birds which had been twittering merrily in the trees.

Behind him, Cyclonus said, "Woah", very quietly, and Blurr slowly lowered his gun, suddenly looking almost…frightened. It might have had something to do with the fact that the calm, capable, tired medic suddenly looked more terrifying that Megatron, Unicron, and all the forces of darkness and evil combined.

Red Alert unclenched his fists slowly, Cyclonus opened his mouth to speak and shut it again. From the woods there came a rustle and birds took flight. Sideswipe wanted, more than anything right now, to be somewhere else. On the ground Rave gave a low, impressed-sounding whistle.

There came another rustle from the bushes, and all heads turned towards the forest, grateful for the distraction. As they looked on, a silver and purple Minicon burst from the trees.

His movements were jerky and erratic, his optics were too bright and his face was pulled into a desperate, feral mask of terror. Had they looked closer, they would have noticed that he was also shaking violently from head to foot. Never before had any of the Autobots present encountered a transformer, of any size, who looked so utterly deranged.

Skyscan stopped as the curtain of trees disappeared, looked up, and froze. All the desperate energy that had burned through him a moment ago died immediately. He was trapped. Despite all his efforts, he had managed to fall right into their hands.

A soft, long, horrible moan escaped his mouth, and, in a moment of helpless horror, he released his grip upon the pistol. It slid from his fingers and hit the ground with an uncaring 'thud'.

And high above, the grey clouds mounted.


	6. To Whisper

Chapter six and we're almost done, ladies and gents. Ugh, exams stink worse than old milk and fermenting socks. No, I do not know what fermenting socks smell like. Thanks to Spin-Firestorm for clueing me in about 'fancy bred' as opposed to 'fancy bread', and to Hotshot94 for theory on where the horned purple one spends his time. Hope you like the latest offering, thanks to all for reviews!

To Whisper

A sudden crash of branches and the sounds of scattering wildlife came from the forest, and all transformers present jerked their heads towards it. All save for Skyscan, who remained frozen in terrified exhaustion.

The strains of the last few hours seemed about to catch up to him, as his body had been generating an excess of energy for the last twenty minutes. Energy which was now starting to leak out, making his fingers twitch and his mind race. Irrational thoughts flew through his overworked circuits, half-devised plans which fizzled to nothing as his reaction-modulators began to shut off one by one as they finally went into overload.

There was no plan, he was utterly helpless. And so, he did nothing but stand, too few ideas to start running again, too much energy in excess to think properly.

When Megatron exploded into the clearing like a demon out of a cage, he remained standing, defeat and despair overruling the madness in his optics.

The dark ruler crowed in triumph as his fingers curled around the Minicon, stopping just short of tight enough to crush. His optics glowed an unholy red with glee. Leader-One, who had been hanging onto his master's crooked horn for dear life as he careened through the trees, now peaked out to see if the nightmare was over yet. Alas, no; he was still alive.

Red Alert gasped. Cyclonus blinked.

_Perfect timing, boss_, he thought, just a tad sourly.

Scavenger's brow fell into a deep frown, and Sideswipe gulped.

Megatron gave a dark chuckle as he gazed upon his prize, hardly registering the four Autobots before him. For a single, triumphant moment, it all seemed worthwhile. Then he looked up, and wondered yet again why he bothered. As Optimus Prime leapt from the trees behind him, accompanied by Hot Shot and Hoist, he very nearly threw himself to the ground and had a temper tantrum.

"Give it up, Megatron," said Optimus, in a low voice. Behind him, Hot Shot drew his gun out of subspace. Looking around, Hoist was glad he had left the Minicons to guard the kids back in the glen. He suspected that this was all about to turn very nasty indeed.

Megatron glowered at his nemesis, and glanced around for any sign of his men. As he did so, he caught sight of Cyclonus, who stood a little way behind Red Alert.

His optics bulged. Cyclonus twitched and gave a horrified, waxen grin.

"_CYCLONUS_!" roared the tyrant. "WHAT THE _SLAG_ DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!?!"

"Eh-heh-heh…good to see you're well, sir…" trailed off the copter-bot, seeing his life flash before his optics. However, before Megatron could proceed much further with his rant, his attention was torn away by a shrill, drawn-out wail, that grated over his shredded nerves.

In his grip, the Minicon had raised his hands to cover his audio receptors, and was shaking violently. He thrashed his upper body and flailed his arms wildly, overcome by hysteria and panic.

"NO! No, no_, no_!!! _Let go_! Letmegoletmego_letmego_! Please, stop it, I beg you, please! No!!! Not again, oh Primus, no!!! Please, slaggit, let me go you _monster_!!!"

The last word rose to a ragged screech that sent deer running two miles away. His eyes brightened from purple to a pale lilac with terror, and he gave wretched little moans and whimpers as he struggled. Without a weapon, he used his hands to rake along Megatron's fingers, which sent up unpleasant, squeaky-chalk-on-blackboard sounds. Megatron grimaced and clenched his hand tighter on the small metallic body.

"Silence!" he commanded, irritated when this only made the shrieks and other sounds increase.

_I endured hours in organic hell for _this

Charcoal-black tears of fuel and energon leaked from Skyscan's optics, born from the overload of energy and the inability to release it. He snarled and hissed and whimpered as panic sent his motherboard into disarray, struggling with all his might to kick his legs free of the giant hand that held him.

"Let-me-_**GO!**_" he squeaked again.

Megatron sighed; this was getting quite tiresome. He yanked his attention back to the more immediate danger, as Hot Shot's finger tightened on the trigger of his gun.

"I think you heard him," he growled, obviously sickened. His childishly blue eyes were narrow and cold with fury and disgust.

And the warlord's life would have taken a severely nasty turn had Lady Luck not decided to drop in at that moment. Rather surprisingly, she appeared in the form of Demolisher and Wheeljack. Both transformed, the Decepticons roared out of the trees, knocking over Hoist and Hot Shot and opening fire.

Scavenger cursed, and leapt forward to meet the enemy. Blurr shot into the air and took cover from behind a rock, where he aimed his rifle once more, grateful that the world seemed to have become normal again. Crazy Red Alerts, hysterical Minicons, these were not the things he had signed up for. The return to the sheer, simple violence of battle was a welcome comfort.

Sideswipe tried to decide what to do, before following Blurr and firing shots from behind the rock, twenty feet from the crevice itself. Red Alert had turned to Wheeljack, as Cyclonus had slinked away a few minutes ago to be drawn into a fight with Hot Shot.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Leader-One powerlinked with his master, for what he counted to be the eighth time so far that day. Optimus rolled to avoid the blast and came up on one knee, firing his own gun at his nemesis.

And Rave surveyed the situation, considered his options, and nodded to himself. Raising his axe, he let out a wild war-call, and charged towards Megatron. To the great horror and surprise of all present, the small Minicon launched himself on the enormous, dark Decepticon, and began whacking him repeatedly with an axe.

Utterly startled, Megatron had little time to register that he had finally located the second Minicon, distracted as he was by needle-sharp points of pain flaring upon his body like pinpricks. His arms flailed as he attempted to snatch the little creature in his hand, aware that, if he succeeded, they could warp out and leave this ghastly place behind.

However, before he achieved this delectable goal, he was hit square between the eyes by a technologically-advanced, aerodynamically-perfect, but nonetheless very sharp axe.

Howling in pain, Megatron let go of Skyscan, jerking his hand towards his optic, which gave an agonising spark. Fury and frustration drew further expletives from his lips.

The Minicon fell to the ground like a rag, bouncing once before lying still. Curling his hand into fists and bringing his fists up before his face, Skyscan curled into a foetal position and did not move an inch.

"Eh? Hey, you! Nitwit on the ground!" bellowed Rave from the top of Megatron's head, where he stood like a victorious Tolkien-esque dwarf. "You silly half-wit, get up and run!"

Skyscan gave no indication of having heard him, remaining curled and trembling like a leaf upon the bare earth. Rave snarled before leaping down and continuing his blurred assault.

* * *

The moment the two flyers had heard the first shot fired they had both broken into a run. Swindle had automatically switched to vehicle-mode and had leapt to powerlink with Starscream. Jetfire's internal healing systems had been able to lessen the damage that had been done to his leg in the fall, although they had been of little help otherwise.

"Gotta…love…gradiant…" he muttered as they leapt up the steep slope.

Starscream's optics had darkened to burnt-orange, and his grip upon the azure sword was tight. Jetfire drew his big, shiny black gun, as they both arrived at the scene of battle.

Megatron was currently torn between focusing on Prime, retrieving the Minicon on the ground and flattening the loathsome, impudent creature which was now attacking his feet. He had just decided to get the fallen one back in his possession when a red beam of light connected with his arm, drawing out a snarl of anger. Spinning around, the Decepticon commander noticed the arrival of the Autobot Second in Command and…Starscream.

Against his will, his optics darkened to a malevolent crimson, and his lips parted to expose fang-like taste detectors. His ex-second caught the look, and glared back, the same expression on his face that he had seen a million times before. Hurt, hatred, anger, singed pride, all his emotions as easily read as always. For a moment both mechs seemed to forget the chaos around them. Traitor and betrayed surveyed each other like two alley cats with hackles rising.

Only for a moment. Then self-control exerted itself once more over the larger transformer, and he cast the other one more withering glance, before returning his attention to Rave. Concentrating mightily, he raised his foot and dealt the Minicon one good kick that sent him flying over Red Alert's shoulder.

Jetfire noticed the way Starscream's entire form seemed to seethe with anger, and gave him a quick, concerned glance. The ex-Decepticon shook his head, raised his sword and joined the others in the fray. Jetfire sighed and turned to aim a shot at Wheeljack.

* * *

So. Anarchy, chaos, the disruption of a peaceful mountain setting into a battlefield. Laser shots flying and punches being thrown. All fluffy woodland creatures for miles around had long decided to get out while the going was good. Yells and threats flew between both sides like rains of confetti.

Thrust looked down upon this, and his lip curled in contempt.

Not at their fighting. Their fighting was something he rather enjoyed. No, that was not what bothered him. What bothered him was how _disorganized_ they were. Look at them, all charging into battle with no strategy, no plans, no thought for what to do if the worst should happen. Even the great Megatron himself, behaving like a headstrong _animal_ the moment he was brought face to face with his nemesis. Really, it was quite pathetic. Sometimes, Thrust wondered if either leaders really did plan on winning the war, or whether they just did it because they couldn't think of anything else to do.

He hovered, his armour dark against a backdrop of clouds which piled above like a pack of grey wolves still in hibernation.

"Are we going in, sir?" hissed Inferno, from where he sat perched on the stealth jet's shoulder.

"Now, now," chided Thrust calmly, surveying the scene below. "Patience. They do not know we are here yet. Therefore, we possess the element of surprise. Therefore…"

Smirking, Thrust raised the Requiem Blaster to his eye and peered down at the unknowing yellow Autobot below.

* * *

By a sheer stroke of luck, Jetfire noticed him first. Mainly because, as commander of the (very small) Autobot Air Force, he constantly kept one optic on the sky in case of sighting any of the (very large) Decepticon Air Force. And, although Thrust was invisible, the Requiem Blaster was not. He nudged Starscream, who was busy taking a swipe at Demolisher.

"Lookie. Sergeant Slimy just joined the party," he muttered.

The red jet nodded and glanced up, secretly pleased that Jetfire seemed to dislike the tactician as intensely as he did.

Jetfire was also secretly pleased, but in his case it was because his companion appeared to have gotten past his moment of silent, simmering fury towards his ex-commander. Not for the first time, Jetfire wondered why Starscream had stayed by Megatron's side for so long. Also, why Megatron had had Thrust try to bring him back, but had never confronted the jet himself except in battle. Also, what it was between the two that made them each reserve a special glare of resentment, so potent it positively crackled, for each other whenever they came face to face. He had heard of Scavenger's desertion of the Decepticons, and Megatron never seemed to bother glaring at _him_ like that.

Come to think of it, it was a lot like the way Wheeljack and Hot Shot looked whenever they saw each other.

With a feeling of resignation, Jetfire was coming to realize that he was doomed to spend a large portion of his existence pondering Starscream's various quirks. Surprising, really, how little he minded this fate.

"Oh, scrap," hissed the shuttle, seeing the gun raised into a firing position. Frantically, he looked around, his expert eyes calculating where it was most likely aiming for.

"Hot Shot!" he said urgently to his comrade, who took one glance and nodded. With an exasperated sigh and mentally reinforcing Thrust's death warrant, Starscream acknowledged the unspoken fact that there was only one course of action.

"Hey, Hot Shot! Heads up!" called out Jetfire behind him, just as Thrust's finger started to tighten on the trigger.

Bringing his arm forward, and cursing himself to the lowest pit of the Inferno, Starscream hurled the Star Sabre towards Hot Shot.

The young Autobot spun round, torn away from his battle with Wheeljack, and blinked in surprise. This was both due to the sight of Jetfire without his faceplate on and the fact that someone had just lobbed a sword at him. In confusion, he caught hold of the Minicon sword, just before hearing a horribly familiar sound coming from above.

He looked up and gulped at the sight of the fabled, almighty Requiem Blaster, from which the pretty lavender-coloured beam of flaming death was emerging. At which point he stopped wondering altogether and brought the sword up before his face, bracing himself against it as the beam connected.

"Nice throw," commented Jetfire, raising his gun to aim at Thrust, who hovered in the air yelling obscenities at them both.

"He'd _better _not break my sword," Starscream muttered darkly.

Hot Shot blinked and almost shuddered from relief as he stood in the middle of a circle of burnt grass. Unharmed, save for a slightly burnt foot and a racing spark.

_Mental note: Thanks Jets later_, he thought.

He checked on Jolt, glad to see that his orange partner was okay. More than okay, actually, as he stood upon the decimated grass and shook his fist at the hovering tactician. Although he spoke only in beeps, as all Minicons did, it was quite obvious what he was saying. Hot Shot was fairly sure he had never taught him death threats like _that_ before.

In the ensuing commotion, no one was paying any attention to the silver Minicon upon the ground, who had lain curled up and whimpering as a child abandoned in a dark room might. Now, Skyscan raised his head, the hysteria and emotional chaos from the overload having deserted him, leaving him completely drained. He looked around listlessly, and if anyone had been looking, they would have been surprised at the flat, dull look upon his face. It was a startling contrast to his earlier appearance of near-madness.

He could run. Maybe. But they would almost certainly catch up with him, sooner or later. They always had on Cybertron, why shouldn't they be able to catch him here? To catch him and use his body as a tool to increase their own power. Hunt him down and use him and push him and ignore him like some mindless little automation. First forcing him to fight when they learnt of his power, then forcing him not to fight when they had learnt to fear it.

A lifetime of chains flashed through his memory banks and still he did not move.

No. No more. Somehow, somehow he was going to ensure that they never, ever, ever touched him again. Somehow he was going to make them believe that he wasn't worth chasing.

It should be noted that by this point the majority of Skyscan's logic circuits had shorted out, meaning that he was operating on almost no actual intelligence or planning whatsoever. Which might have been why, as his eyes swept across the landscape and landed upon his gleaming pistol, a stupid idea flashed through his mind.

Hoist caught sight of the Minicon, frozen, and wondered what he was staring at. Then he saw, and his spark went cold.

_No…the crazy little bastard wouldn't actually…_

Before this thought had finished forming, he watched as the small Minicon shot to his feet and burst forward, sprinting towards the gun.

Hoist wasted no time in thinking. He simply ran. He did not have a natural talent for running, but he suddenly found that he could move at a whole new level of speed when he wanted to.

Skyscan was fast. Luckily for him, Hoist was quite a bit faster.

As his flickering fingers closed around the pistol handle and jerked it towards his head, he gritted his jaw and stared ahead. His optics were white with despair and an insane determination to do it right. And just as he started to squeeze the trigger, a massive hand appeared in front of him and knocked the gun right out of his hands with one well-targeted swipe.

Skyscan blinked in confusion, wondering what the hell had just happened. Slowly, he looked up and into the red optics of the big transformer above him.

"Geez, what is your problem?" exclaimed Hoist, badly shaken. The Autobot had a firm belief in the sanctity of life, and the sight of someone so set on ending their own had disturbed him a great deal.

"Were you-I mean- good Primus, are you nuts or something? Why the krell would you want to _do_ something like that?"

Skyscan stared wordlessly up at the Autobot, his mouth opening and shutting. Every roaring emotion which had been tearing him apart three seconds ago had been wiped clean away, to be replaced with one thing only: shock.

What _had_ he been about to do?

Was he really that crazy?

And, more importantly, why hadn't this towering monstrosity made any move to grab him yet?

"I…I…I don't…I…" he trailed off, having absolutely nothing to say. He wracked his brains, and wondered why he bothered. It was only a lousy-he checked the mech's insignia- Autobot anyway…

And why was he looking at him like that? Skyscan was used to seeing delight, triumph or smug pride whenever one of the giant bots laid their rust-bitten hands on him, yet here he could only see…concern. Worry, even. Simply put, Skyscan's entire state of mind right now could be summed up in one syllable: "Huh?"

As he watched the blast dissipate around Hot Shot, Megatron glanced up and smiled in cold satisfaction. The tactician had regained his composure and was now quickly descending towards his leader, dodging laser fire from all Autobots present. Even dodging one or two from Cyclonus and Demolisher, who both sniggered to themselves before returning to the task of slagging the Autobots.

Rave had recovered from Megatron's kick and was now being physically restrained by Blurr from rushing back into battle. The dark blue Autobot yelped in pain as the smaller mech almost sliced two of his fingers off.

"This stinks," muttered Billy, kicking a stone.

From around the glade there were murmurs of agreement. The kids sat with their Minicons, awaiting the return of the Autobots. From far away, Alexis could make out the sounds of a battle going on. Fred had long since run out of food, and was lying on his back, groaning something about "malnutrition" and "wasting away".

"Hope they get back pretty soon," Rad commented, looking up at the sky. Thrust had flown over a few minutes ago, and they had ducked behind the trees to avoid detection.

"How come?" questioned Billy, boredly.

"Looks like it going to rain."

* * *

No one really saw how it happened.

Hoist was gently about to help the Minicon to his feet by means of an offered finger when he heard the sound of an incoming jet engine. He looked up and growled at the sight of Thrust, the Requiem Blaster in one hand.

Scavenger's optics were experienced at observing the tides of a fight, and he foresaw it even before it happened. Still, it happened too fast for him to be able to give warning.

Like the earthquake, there was barely even time to react before it was over.

Jetfire stood beside Starscream, gladly aware that they were on the verge of victory, even with the arrival of the recently dubbed 'Sergeant Slimy'. That was when he saw Thrust throw the Requiem Blaster towards his leader, who was caught between Optimus and the advancing Hot Shot.

Red Alert was fending off Wheeljack, wondering what on earth had come over him earlier. It was alarmingly that, for once, he felt so entirely unrepentant. With merry abandon, the Autobot swung out a fist and caught the other on the jaw. Out of the corner of his optic band, he saw Megatron catch hold of the Requiem Blaster. As he gasped, the black and gold Decepticon also turned, curious as to what he was staring at.

Smirking, the Decepticon leader gripped the gun firmly, enjoying how light it felt in his arms. Glaring ferociously, Hot Shot leapt in front of his leader, obviously planning to defend him with the glowing Star Sabre.

Oh, well. If that foolish child wanted to play the hero Megatron could have cared less. Besides, one of the advantages of being hopelessly outnumbered was that you had a lot more targets to choose from than your enemies did.

With a sharp, steel-cold grin, Megatron spun the weapon around his grip and spun away from Hot Shot. He looked to where the Autobot Second in Command stood fending off Demolisher, noting the strange absence of his wings.

And before anyone could do anything, he raised it into the firing position, and fired.

Jetfire had enough time to wonder briefly why Demolisher had suddenly ducked down to the ground before he felt a hand tighten around his arm. To his immense surprise, the shuttle felt himself pulled backwards at the same time the shot that had taken off his wings only hours ago went passed his shoulder.

He stared after it, watching as it slammed into the trees and cut a perfectly circular path through the forest.

He turned to Starscream who still held onto his arm and said, in a shaky sort of voice, "Well, that would have _hurt_."

The seeker gave him the sort of look people give to other people who have just narrowly avoided death twice in one day; peered at him in a mixture of wonder and disbelief, before shaking his head slowly. Starscream opened his mouth to say something, and was instantly knocked sideways.

Jetfire gasped as his companion was thrown back from him, hitting the ground twenty metres away.

"STARSCREAM!" somebody shrieked. Only later would Jetfire remember that it had been him.

Megatron gave a low, inhuman hiss as he watched his shot foiled by Starscream, of all people. The same hot, unchallenged rage which had burned within him at first sight of the seeker reignited instantly, and his one free hand clenched so tightly that energon and fluid leaked from his grip.

With a movement too quick to trace, he turned his body to the left and fired his fusion cannon at Starscream, watching him fly backwards. With distantly felt disgust, he realized that this had not made any of the fury abate. There was no satisfaction as such hits usually produced, but only cold, reptilian anger. The very sight of the traitor was currently enough to make his fluid boil.

However, it was quite obvious that the traitor himself was in no mood to be toyed with. As Megatron sent yet another blast at him, he wrenched his wing-sword out and deflected it. Thankfully, this move did not cause the blade to crack for what would have been the eighth time by now. The combination of lights bathed the entire plateau in a soft, red glow.

Starscream sprung to his feet with speed unmatchable, and glowered at his ex-leader. His face had a hard, cold look to it and his teeth were bared. Once again, Jetfire was reminded of two starving cats, looking to rip each other limb from limb.

From above, there came a distant rumble of thunder, eerily similar to the rumble which had shaken the ground itself not so long ago.

In a series of flickering images, Optimus Prime watched the scene unfold before him.

Darting forward, Megatron appeared before the seeker, dodged an swipe from the sword and struck him hard across the face. The blow sent Starscream reeling back, until he crashed against a backdrop of trees, barely standing. A line of onyx-black mech fluid trickled down the side of his head, his death-white faceplate making it startlingly obvious.

With a roar like a triumphant lion, the Decepticon leader snapped the Requiem Blaster around, pointed towards Starscream.

It had all happened in a blur of steel and colour and when all movement suddenly stopped, Starscream was backed against the trees and Megatron was aiming directly at his spark box. Blurr gasped in horror. Sideswipe's optics were wide and glassy. Not even Rave made a move.

As lighting overhead cast dark shadows upon all present, the two pairs of optics met.

And something seemed to change in that instant, as time went into arrest. Jetfire could see the entire moment perfectly, being burned into his memory. Megatron and Starscream, staring frozen at each other, poised like perfect counteractions.

For the first time in his memory banks, Starscream the proud, rebellious, sharp-witted Air Warrior looked as scared as hell. And the iron-hard commander of the Decepticon army looked little better himself. The grin of success and victory had slipped from Megatron's face to be replaced with one that looked almost similar to fear.

Unbidden by his body but commanded by his soldier's mind, the warlord's finger started to squeeze the trigger. The trapped seeker made no move to either attack or flee. Instead, he stared back at him, fear and hurt all too obvious in his expression. The silent question whispered through the air and remained unanswered.

_Are you going to kill me, leader? Do it, then._

As he looked, Starscream's face changed. The fear and the pain remained, but they were dwarfed by something older and harder. The seeker drew himself up a fraction, tilting his chin.

That was what almost killed Megatron, although still his face gave nothing away. Had he seen simple fear or simple loathing, the seeker would have looked like just another mech to defeat. But the sheer nerve of the wretched traitor, the rebellion that blazed from every crack in his armour reminded him too strongly of all the times he had seen it before, when Starscream was constantly by his side. When he had been so sure that the seeker would be there forever, like Cybertron or Optimus Prime.

Interesting, really, how all the little things he took for granted seemed to have a way of slipping through his fingers. Enough to make one wonder if, perhaps, Megatron really was nothing more than the comic relief of the gods.

He growled to himself, ignoring Thrust as he piped up in the background, focusing purely on the silent staring contest.

And, with impeccable timing and no regard for the battle of wills busy going on, it started raining.

Heavy, cold drops of rain fell from the heavens, sprinkling upon the ground and splattering upon the deep green leaves. A grey curtain of droplets fell upon the mountain, killing the bright colours of the trees, the mountainside, the Requiem Blaster itself.

Finally, something seemed to change in their expressions. As Optimus watched, Megatron flinched, as though he had just stubbed out a cigarette on an open wound. Looking at Starscream, he noticed the same thing, although on the red mech's face it seemed all the more raw. As though he'd just been stabbed in the spark.

"Sir…?" called down Thrust in confusion, wondering what in the name of Unicron was going on.

And now time was speeding up again. One or two of the other Decepticons began opening their mouths to voice their concern. Optimus watched something _shift_ in Starscream's form, as though he was bracing himself for movement. He watched Megatron's face closely, as the red optics flickered with a frantic urgency that the rest of his body did not seem to suggest.

And, as he watched, both entities seemed to reach hastily-made decisions.

How many of the others noticed, Jetfire did not know, but his optics were far keener than most. As Starscream threw his body to the right, Megatron pulled the gun to the left.

Pink light flared, shooting out as the world seemed to catch up with itself again, and Starscream braced himself. He didn't even bother raising his wing-sword in defence, fully aware that it would be as much help as a soggy biscuit. The shot ripped wildly through the air, not the controlled, perfect beam it had been when previously fired, but an erratic, blazing thing, not unlike the flames that came from beneath Jetfire's feet whenever he flew directly upwards in robot mode.

Jetfire experienced the same icy chill that Starscream had experienced earlier, watching him fall from the sky. He saw the blast connect with the seeker's armour, and pierce his shoulder, leaving a gaping wound to the left of his head. The side of his left null-ray was completely torn away. As a finishing touch, the laser ripped out of his back and the seeker gave a short, sharp scream as it ripped right through his remaining wing as though it were paper.

With a gasp as pain seared through him like a living thing, Starscream collapsed sideways to the ground, his legs partially drawn and his upper body barely supported by his arms. Mech fluid ran down the side of his mouth as he winced and trembled.

The low growl of thunder rolled across the sky, and the gentle rain continued. As the transformers looked on, the last wisps of smoke from the barrel of the gun slowly began to disappear into the air, unnoticed.


	7. To Weather

One chappie to go, thank you for reviews, peeps! _hands everyone a baby ferret_

To Weather

"Megatron!" said Thrust, an untypical note of shock in his voice. "You missed!"

Had the tactician stopped to think about it, he would not have made such an obvious attempt at suicide. The commander had a tendency to react in a terminal way to someone pointing out his mistakes, the most recent example being when he had thrown Cyclonus into a wall for calling one of his battle plans 'stupid'.

However, in this particular case, Megatron was simply grateful for the distraction. Turning to the tactician, the Decepticon held up the Requiem Blaster once more, a cold gleam in his optics.

"Thrust…" he said quietly, "…do not irritate me."

Aware that now was not the time to be clever, Thrust shut up. Mentally he locked away all the things he was dying to scream at the arrogant, pompous, useless commander. Privately, and with a certain vicious glee, the tactician had decided that the next few weeks were going to see some grave pieces of news from the stars. Oh, yes, indeed.

That was the wonderful thing about stars; no matter how unsatisfactory the things they prophesized were, no one could ever blame the innocent astrologer.

There came a noise from behind him and Megatron turned back. The white and gold flyer he had attempted to hit earlier had moved between him and the wounded jet. How he had moved there so quickly Megatron did not know.

Jetfire himself did not look like the most formidable foe in existence, truth be told. The damage done to his wings was blatantly obvious for all to see, and his body was sustaining numerous dents and burn marks. Nonetheless, Megatron had rarely before laid optics upon any transformer who looked so absolutely prepared to stuff him into a shredder.

"Go. Away."

The shuttle's voice sounded nothing like it normally did. There was no trace of a joke in his voice, no cocky over-confidence, no hint of laughter. There was only cold menace. His mask-less face shone with a dark, chilling determination. If Megatron's wrath could be compared to forest fire, then Jetfire was an avalanche sweeping down the slopes of Mount Everest, consuming everything in its path.

Starscream stared in amazement at his damaged companion. His optics flickered and he clenched his jaw, biting back a whimper as his shoulder sparked. What, in the name of Primus, did the fool think he was doing?!

Fluid was beginning to run down Jetfire's back in tiny rivers, coursing down his legs and dripping morbidly to the ground.

"He hasn't got a prayer," muttered Wheeljack, mostly to himself.

_He hasn't got a prayer_, thought Skyscan, entirely to himself.

Skyscan had been standing upon the ground beside Hoist, watching the proceedings with his mouth hanging open. As Starscream and Megatron had stared, frozen, at each other, he remained still. As Jetfire darted forth to defend Starscream, bleeding profusely, he remained still. And, amazingly, he was the first to react. Before any of the Autobots or Decepticons could open fire once more, he clenched his fists.

Okay. Fine. This lousy, stupid war was going to drag him in no matter what then at least he would do exactly what he wanted to one last time. He was sick to death of being shoved around on the changing tides of battle, helpless as debris. It was time to push back. And a feeling akin to sympathy had come over him at the sight of the doomed mech, who stood as though he were prepared to fight to the death. Even though he was smaller than the other one. Even though the other one could kill him with a shot.

It was not often Skyscan experienced sympathy.

_I hope I get sent straight to the pit for this_, he thought. Willingly helping an Autobot. Primus, how embarrassing.

It wasn't as big as the first one. He hadn't been in control of that one, as it had been created by the sheer desperation and panic he had felt at the time. He didn't know how much harm it had almost caused Red Alert, but was thankful that at least it hadn't hurt him. The Minicon a selfish, defensive creature, and his typical attitude to the suffering of others was 'better them than me'.

It only worked when his feet were in contact with the ground. He didn't no why. He didn't care why. All he knew was that it was always terrifyingly easy and it was rarely of any use whatsoever. Ah, but now…now it could be of use.

His optics narrowed as he looked at the large, dark transformer who had chased him earlier. Yes. Him.

Skyscan decided that he was going to enjoy this…

"Huh? What are you doing now?" asked Hoist warily. The Minicon had taken a few purposeful steps forward. Ignoring the white and blue transformer, he lifted up one foot, held the pose for a moment, before bringing it down. Hard.

The minute his foot touched the bare rock, Skyscan felt the shockwaves penetrate the earth, created by tiny matter-distortion devices implanted in his legs. He listened closely, before detecting a faint rumble. He smiled. It couldn't be aimed but it could be _directed_. And, currently, Skyscan was focusing all his will on directing it at Megatron.

Hoist gaped. Hoist stared. Hoist gave a low whistle. And what was causing Hoist to do this was the strange way the earth appeared to ripple like water, with an increasingly loud rumble coming from beneath the surface.

In fact, the ripple was heading towards where Megatron now stood before Jetfire, cradling his precious gun. Hoist began to grin.

The earthquake struck approximately ten metres from Megatron, when the low rumble became a roar and the ground started to shake. He stared in horror as the shaking intensified, before cracks started to appear in the surface.

"Aw, geez, not _again_…" groaned Cyclonus, as nearby Demolisher squawked and tried to remain standing by grabbing hold of a tree.

Jetfire looked on, confused. He did not know much about Earthling geography, but he was damn sure that earthquakes didn't happen like this. For example, the way the ground trembled under Meatron's feet but remained perfectly still beneath his.

Blurr snatched up the protesting Rave and leapt away from the rocks with Sideswipe.

_I__** seriously**__ need a new job_, he though sourly, as behind him, the earth started to tear itself apart. Both Autobots and Decepticons alike scrambled for safety, ducking away from the widening crevice. Hoist glanced at Skyscan, and was met with the single most evil, self-satisfied smile he had seen in his life.

"You can stop this, right?" he asked the Minicon softly, so as not to be overheard by the others.

"Nope," replied Skyscan, looking positively cheerful.

"…Oh."

"Autobots, get back!" commanded Optimus Prime, although it was unnecessary. The quake was affecting only the ground upon which Megatron now stood.

Red Alert was just about to transform and moved away from the widening crevice, when he heard a nasty little noise behind him. A nastily familiar noise.

"Oh, scrap," muttered the medic, and felt like a bit of an idiot. Twice in one day really was just ridiculous.

The second crack in the ground had snuck up behind him, and he now found himself trapped between two widening holes in the earth. Far away, Skyscan saw what was happening and cursed. He had _not_ meant for the artificial quake to go that far.

As Red Alert was preparing to try and jump for it, the ground gave one last, violent shake. He tried to balance himself but the rain had made the rock slippery. He wobbled like a glass bottle on a string, before, inevitably, falling sideways with a yell of distress.

Megatron and Red Alert had but one thought in common at that time, possibly the only time they would ever agree on something.

_I really, really, really hate this planet_, thought both mechs.

* * *

"Decepticons, RETREAT!"

Cyclonus heard the famous order, but hesitated. This was because, out the corner of his optic, he had seen the Autobot medic's predicament.

_Wonder how long he's gonna stay standing fo- slag_, he thought as he observed the Autobot start to topple. Did this idiot make a habit of attracting trouble?

He frowned to himself, holding the quickest inner debate in history. He glanced sideways to make sure nobody was looking. Nope, all to preoccupied with saving their own shells. Screw 'em.

As far as Cyclonus was concerned, this had been a rotten day spent on a rotten and quite pointless mission, and they still didn't even have the lousy Minicons. Besides, if his leader wanted to go missing traitors _on purpose_ whilst his minions broke their backs actually doing their jobsthat was his problem. With a wicked smirk, the copter-bot decided to be a little…rebellious.

Heck, now that Screamer was gone _someone_ had to fill in the position.

Cyclonus leapt into the air and transformed with a yell.

Red Alert felt himself fall exactly thirty feet down into darkness before his flailing hand closed around something cold and hard. He truly did not want to look, but he did. And blinked several times. The blue mech was startled to find himself rising out of the crevice, although not as startled as he was to discover that he was clinging to a _very_ familiar orange helicopter.

_Okay…this is new…_

"Y'know, ambulance-boy, if you're the medic, I'd hate to be the poor sap who's got to fix you," chuckled Cyclonus as he ascended through the rain with all the grace and control of a raven with a crooked wing.

It wasn't often Red Alert found himself speechless, but now his mouth hung open like a flytrap. Rave gasped as he noticed the medic's situation.

"The no-good scum's kidnappin' him!" he roared, looking ready to charge forth once more.

A dark blue fist slammed into the ground five feet in front of him.

"Do you _ever_ shut up?" enquired Blurr flatly, lifting his fist once more to flick away a miniscule piece of grime from the barrel of his rifle. Rave gave an indignant huff, sat down and folded his arms, and refused to say another word.

As Cyclonus passed above some level, unmoving ground, he gave a violent jolt, suddenly snarling, "This is where you get off, Autobot."

Obediently, Red Alert let go and touched down upon the ground. Never before had he been more thankful for stable, unmoving ground.

As he rose to his feet, Red Alert looked up and stared at Cyclonus just as he prepared to warp out, and knew that there was something that needed to be said.

"Thank you," he said simply, just loud enough for the copter-bot to hear.

As Cyclonus disappeared in a technical flash of movement that made eyeballs twitch, he could have sworn he heard the words, "Don't mention it", followed shortly by a psychotic little giggle.

Megatron looked around him, one last time as the ground began to give way beneath his feet. Thrust and Wheeljack had already warped out, and Demolisher was following close behind them. The warlord had suddenly lost his appetite for catching Minicons that day. All he wanted to do was get away from this place and this rain. He took a final glance at Starscream out of the corner of his eye, fully aware that the seeker was watching him.

The commander gave the order once more, and warped out. In five seconds, the Decepticons had disappeared from sight.

As the last tremors of the quake began to die down, Skyscan groaned. His circuits finally gave way to exhaustion, and prepared for stasis. Hoist gasped as the little creature swayed on his feet and collapsed to the ground, out cold.

Jetfire crouched beside Starscream's side, watching as the Decepticons warped out. The seeker said nothing but drew close to him, as a wounded animal seeking shelter might. Jetfire stole one look at the damage done and instantly went into panic.

"Red! Will you get your stupid blue hide over here!" he shouted at the medic. Beside him, Starscream pulled himself into a sitting position, coughing out black liquid again.

Red Alert, who had been standing looking thoughtful, with a light frown turning down the corners of his mouth, seemed to snap sharply back to reality at the sound of the shuttle's voice. Instantly, he shot to the two flyers and hissed as he inspected the wound, kneeling down beside the ruined wing.

"We need to get back to base," he muttered. Upon seeing Jetfire's expression, he added, "I think it's going to be fine. His spark box wasn't damaged but he's losing a lot of fuel."

Hoist gently picked up the unconscious Skyscan, and awaited orders from Optimus. He was currently to busy worrying about the state of the Minicon to give to much thought to the fact that he was almost sure he had just witnessed Megatron missing on _purpose._ Instead, he gazed down, analyzing Skyscan's minor injuries as best he could. After his 'accident', he had started spending a great deal of time with Red Alert in the med bay, listening to the medic go on about repair processes and shell injuries. Why, he did not know, but suspected it was a form of morbid curiosity.

Rave had taken up residence on Blurr's shoulder, from where he had shouted dire threats after the retreating Decepticons, to the effect of "and if ye' ever come back, I'll kill ya!". Sideswipe helped support his bro, who was clutching his shoulder and trying to pretend it didn't hurt.

As the thunder gave one final rumble, the rain stopped.

"Let's go home," said Optimus.

* * *

Back on the moon, Megatron refused to answer any of Thrust's questions of "but sir, why did we leave so soon? We still had a chance to capture the Minicon!". Instead, he ignored him for about five minutes, before saying in a low growl that he would personally dissect the tactician if he did not shut up immediately.

Demolisher sensed that something was the matter with his leader, and refrained Cyclonus from asking any questions. This was fine with the helicopter, as it seemed to imply that no questions would be asked about _his_ little stunt. A stunt which, miraculously, only Demolisher had noticed. He stalked off in the direction of his quarters, muttering something about taking the galaxy's longest energy bath.

Wheeljack had disappeared once more to the sanctity of his lab, not to be disturbed. He wouldn't be, either; the ex-Autobot's private domain was a place where only Cyclonus ever dared venture. The two scientists often spent hours discussing things in that dread room, and Demolisher had often heard mentioned words like, "chemical explosion", "unforeseen reaction", and "Wow, didn't expect _that _to happen". The two got on frighteningly well sometimes. It was one of the reasons why even Thrust tended to give the black and gold mech a wide berth.

The leader stepped onto the surface of the moon, the grey dust shifting beneath his feet. When he was a sufficient distance from the base, he stopped and stared up at the planet Earth.

The entire scenario of the day passed through his mind, like one of those crude human video tapes.

It was so simple. He knew how it went. As, he was sure, did Prime, and the rest of those idiots. The race for the Minicon, the chance for power, the fighting. One walked away the victor, the other lived to fight another day. Or did not live, as the case may be. It was the same old story, the push and pull of power that he had grown so used to over the last million years. Some battles lost, some battles won. It was completely familiar to him, like a dance that he knew all the steps of by heart. But today, something had interrupted the dance, made him forget momentarily how the waltz was supposed to go.

Behind him, the stars twinkled coldly, and for once, he ignored every one of them. His thoughts and optics were fixed firmly on the small green and blue planet before him.

Yes; the great Megatron had made a mistake. And it _hurt_.

_No_, he disciplined himself sternly. _I am the leader of the Decepticon empire. I have no regrets. If I make mistakes, they can be corrected. If I am thwarted, I always prevail. I am strong; I am powerful; I am without mercy or compassion. I do not care for the fate of a wretched little traitor who deserted me. I do not care about the mech who looked back at me today as he couldn't believe I would hurt him so. I do not care that it hurts._

_Liar_, whispered a little voice in Megatron's head.

The Decepticon leader stood there, his hands clenched tight and his optics shut tighter.

After quite a while, he slowly turned away and returned to the base, where his men awaited him. He was in need of repairs, and it was time to plan the next step in the dance.


	8. To Waltz

Thank you a million trillion thousand times to all who reviewed! This chapter was inspired by Ashana. I don't even know how to _play_ go-fish…

"But when it comes down to it, who is holding the umbrella?"

-Batman Returns

To Waltz

Optimus Prime strode beside Red Alert down the metallic silver hallway as they went to check up on Skyscan. The medic was busy filling him in on the information he had gathered from a routine scan.

"His injuries were minor, but he used up his entire energy reserves setting off that quake.", Red Alert stated, looking over the notes he had created, detailing the Minicon's condition.

"That's fascinating, isn't it?" murmured Optimus.

Red Alert made a less-than-friendly "hmm" noise, aware that the Minicon's 'fascinating' talent had very nearly been the cause of his demise not once, but twice thus far.

"He seems to set them off accidentally. I ran a check up on him, and it looks like the motion-distorters are directly linked to his motherboard. Whenever he experiences an overload of fear or panic, his body reacts by setting off a quake. When he started off the first one, I don't think he was in any control of it."

Prime's optics widened.

"Dangerous," he commented, glancing at Red Alert.

"Hmm. Very much so. However, after he sets one off, it takes a while before his body regains enough energy to create another."

"And he can create them on purpose…?"

"Yes. I believe that, if you give me some time, I could probably find a way of preventing him from starting earthquakes unintentionally. That would reduce the risk. Unless, of course, he _wanted_ to bring the entire base to the ground," muttered Red Alert, who, as victim of the little Minicon's destructive tendencies, thought this was entirely possible.

As they continued to walk in silence, Optimus looked sideways at his third-in-command. Sparkplug was not perched in his usual spot upon the leader's shoulder, but was off giving a charred Jolt a lecture on the evils of playing with dynamite. Had he been there, though, he would have exchanged a glance with Optimus. Ever since returning and finishing off the repairs, the medic had been even more quiet than usual.

"Do you want to tell me why Cyclonus did that today?" he asked after a while.

It took a great deal of Red Alert's self-control not to shout the word _NO_. Instead, he nodded, and proceeded to give his commander an abbreviated version of the day's events, from the time he had fallen down the hole to the time of his second rescue of the day. When he was done, Optimus Prime looked thoughtful.

"Strange…" he said.

"I don't understand it," admitted Red Alert. "He'd already fulfilled his end of the bargain. Why did he come back and save me?"

The medic had just finished working his way through the various injuries the Autobots had collected over the course of the day. Although he was almost certainly in need of some recharge time by now, Red Alert found that he couldn't settle down. Possibly this was because the events of the day were still racing through his head. (Screaming at the men-good grief, what had he been _thinking_?)

(Although, admittedly, his outburst did seem to have put them on their best behaviour for the next few weeks. Blurr had even come up and _apologized_ to the medic. This was not a thing that happened often.)

Or possibly it was because he was still getting over the shock of having his life saved by Cyclonus, of all people. Or possibly it was just that he was terrified of the thought of Rave finding him to ask for something _else_ to do. Apart from a tendency to savagely attack anyone he considered an enemy, the Minicon practically demanded that he 'help out' around the base. Indeed, he only seemed satisfied when certain that he was aiding the Autobot cause in some way.

Although this sounded quite admirable, Red Alert had quickly learnt that Rave trying to 'help' was almost as dangerous as Rave coming in at full speed, wearing a Viking helmet and swinging a mace. Mainly because whenever something did not work, his primary method of repair was to kick it until it did. So far, the medic had counted three minor disasters, all involving incorrect wiring, an ill-timed whack, strange crackling noises and the words "Oh, Primus, sorry 'bout that! It was an accident, laddie!". This had continued for a few hours before Blurr had pried the spanner from his hands and solemnly promised that, if the Minicon did not go and sit quietly somewhere, there was a very good chance he would kill him.

"Maybe," Optimus said slowly, in response to Red Alert's previous statement, "he was trying to prove a point."

Red Alert looked at his commander in bemusement. Optimus continued.

"In my experience, when you tell a man he's something that he isn't, he will go to any lengths to prove you wrong. Perhaps, if he felt you were treating him like a madman…"

Had Red Alert been human, he would have arched a sceptical eyebrow.

"Are you suggesting he's not?"

"No," said Optimus, shaking his head. "I'm just suggesting that, if Cyclonus actually saved the person who saved his life a few hours before, maybe he's not as psychotic as we may think. _Megatron _wouldn't have saved you again, for example."

"Speaking of Megatron…" said Red Alert, lowering his voice.

"Yes. I noticed. I've no idea why he threw the shot, and I suspect Starscream doesn't either. As far as I'm aware, you're the only other person who picked it up."

Optimus frowned in confusion. In all the day's havoc, Megatron's hesitation to shoot a traitor was the part he understood the least. This time it was Red Alert who looked thoughtful before speaking.

"Perhaps there's more there than meets the eye," he mused.

Optimus fell silent.

"…We don't _have_ eyes," he replied, after a second.

"Human figure of speech."

"Oh."

As they arrived at the med bay, Optimus stopped beside the central monitor, a vast machine with about twenty screens upon it, all showing different parts of the base. On it, an image of Hoist talking calmly with the new Minicon was clearly visible. As far as Optimus could make out, neither of them had drawn a weapon yet. Ah, well. The sounds of gunfire and screaming would let him know if anything went wrong. Optimus looked at the screen for a while.

"Optimus?" said Red Alert, who stood quietly.

"Yes, Red?"

The medic opened his mouth and shut it again, trying to decide how to put his question into words. He opened it again, and said, "Do you think people ever change, Optimus? I mean, can they ever, really change?"

The Autobot leader's yellow optics glinted with what might have been amusement.

"Oh, I think so…" he said, and gestured to one of the monitoring screens. Red Alert looked at it, and laughed when he saw the image of Jetfire and Starscream, who stood talking together on the roof of the base.

With a hidden grin, Prime returned his gaze to the one recording what was happening inside the med bay. He cocked his head in puzzlement.

"Hmm. They're doing something but I can't figure out what it is…"

Interested, Red Alert entered the room with his commander, as the doors opened with a hiss. He glanced briefly down at his notes one last time, before he raised his head to greet new, emotionally-fragile Minicon.

And stopped dead.

"Um…gentlemen?" attempted Optimus, after a few moments of stunned silence.

"Shh!" hissed back both Minicon and Autobot.

"Busy. Go away," grunted Skyscan.

"Yeah, give us a sec, guys. I think I've got him on the run…"

Hoist and Skyscan sat cross-legged upon the recharge platform, staring intently at the cards in their hands. Large cards, more than big enough to be utilized by a mech Hoist's size. In _fact_, they were the same cards, Red Alert remembered, which Hoist had made to play a game which the kids had taught him.

"Got any twos?" asked Skyscan, his frown deepening.

"Go fish," said Hoist.

Red Alert stared in perfect silence, before raising a hand to his face. In a muffled voice, he said, "He's free to go. I did the tests, his body's in perfect condition. Optimus, I'm going to go get some recharge."

Thus saying, the medic turned around and walked from the room, shaking his head in amazement.

_Ah, well,_ he thought philosophically. _We've survived Starscream. How bad can another homicidal new guy or two be?_

At that moment there came a shout, and a red race car shot across his path. It was shortly followed by a sword-wielding red blur he identified as Starscream and a white-painted blur by the name of Jetfire, who was hurling a colourful variety of threats at the Minicon.

By astonishingly bad coincidence, Rave also chose that minute to charge around the corner, being pursued by an irate Blurr, who was busy shouting loudly and wielding a wrench high above his head.

Unfortunately, the two parties did not notice each other until it was just a second too late.

_Crash_, _**clang**_, clatter, **bang,** wallop, curse,_ yelp_, etc.

With a sigh, Red Alert ran an optic over the situation, summing up the injuries he would shortly be called upon to deal with. Still, at least this made the prospect of owing his life to Cyclonus slightly less horrifying. Why should he, of all people, fear the whims of a lunatic?

_Either I am deeply mistaken, _thought Red Alert,_ or I am completely _surrounded_ by lunatics._

With a long-suffering sigh, and the groans of the fallen mingling around him, the medic set to work. As he did so, he felt a strange and inexplicable urge to giggle.

* * *

The red seeker stood motionless against a backdrop of stars. He had been training for the last hour, enjoying the freedom from thought that speed and movement brought. It was probably a stupid thing to do after getting out of the med bay just two hours ago, but he was coming to realize that the majority of his life seemed made up of doing stupid things. What harm could one more do? 

It hadn't been long before he was overcome by boredom, so now he stood, at a section of the base which opened to the outside, allowing him to see for miles around if he wanted. He did not want to see for miles around, however. For the moment, all he wanted to do was look at the stars.

He heard a noise behind him and turned. A repaired Hot Shot stood a little way from him, looking uncomfortable.

"Thought I'd find you here…" he muttered, glancing at the floor. Starscream inclined his head in a princely manner, waiting to see what the yellow bot wanted. Whatever it was, he seemed to be having a great deal of trouble spitting it out.

"Uh…the Air Defence Force is down in the base somewhere. Y'know, I mean…they would still prefer you to wield them."

This was something of a sore spot for Hot Shot, who desperately wanted to be the one in charge of the glowing sword. Starscream continued to wait.

"Was there something you wanted or did you just come here to pick a fight?" he enquired at last, earning a glare from the other.

"No," he said, obviously with some effort not to snap at the seeker. The youngest Autobot brought his temper under control, and steeled himself.

"Actually I…I…uh, I…aw, geez. I-I just came to say…to say… Thank you, alright?!" he finished, practically shouting the words.

Oh. How simply delicious. Starscream stared at the younger bot, impressed. He looked for all the world as though he had just swallowed sour energon and washed it down with poison. Hot Shot grimaced, and sighed.

"Look, just…just thanks, okay? For saving my skidplate today, thanks."

"Jetfire noticed first. If he hadn't been there I probably wouldn't have done anything…" stated the seeker suddenly, as a way of offering the obviously tortured mech a way out. Hot Shot snorted derisively, and said, "Yeah, that's what I thought. I went and said thanks to him and he just told me that he wasn't the one with the sword."

Privately, Starscream smiled.

"So…thanks…and I'm sorry," murmured Hot Shot, staring at the ground as though the words were quite literally killing him. Starscream stared. Primus, how many miracles could happen in one day?

"For what I said to you…about being a traitor…I'm sorry. Okay?" Hot Shot managed to choke out, and looked up at him with pleading optics.

Briefly, Starscream considered prolonging the torture, but decided against it. Thanks from Hot Shot was not something, he suspected, that was going to roll around frequently.

"You're welcome," he said simply, and turned back to the stars, as a way of indicating that the younger bot could go now.

Hot Shot stared blankly at him, indignant at being so dismissed. He shook his head, before scampering away in relief, giving an audible sigh.

"Well, that was _nice,_" came a voice from the passage a minute after he'd gone.

"You were watching all of that, weren't you?"

"Oh, yeah," chuckled Jetfire, coming out of the shadows and moving to stand beside the seeker. His wings had been reconstructed, admittedly with quite a large amount of pain, but now they rose from his back proud and snow-white as before. The face-guard lay disregarded in his quarters, where it was being placed more and more frequently, especially now that the others had seen his face in full view.

The two stood in silence for a while. Jetfire was amazed at how quickly the jet had healed. Red Alert said it had been a simple matter of repairing fuel lines and patching up the wound, but Jetfire could still not believe that the mech standing beside him now was the same bleeding creature of six hours ago. Still, he had heard that Decepticon healing systems were more effective than those belonging to Autobots.

The night sky was clear and the kids had returned home ages ago. Most of the Autobots would soon be turning in for a recharge cycle. The air was cold but calm, and there was a bite in it that foretold the coming of Winter.

"What happened today?", asked Jetfire softly.

Starscream turned his head away at the question.

"Nothing," he murmured.

Jetfire sighed, more in concern than exasperation.

"Starscream, I saw him move that gun. I saw the way you looked at him."

The seeker made a small, growling nose that contained no actual threat. It was more a plea for the white shuttle to stop asking him questions that he did not wish to answer.

"Why?" pressed Jetfire; his voice was rising. "Why did he do it? Why did he look at you like that? I don't understand, Starscream! Why?!"

"Stop it," hissed the ex-Decepticon through clenched teeth, turning further away. Jetfire persisted, aware that, if he did not get a response now, he would not have another chance.

"Slaggit, Starscream, you almost died there today," he growled.. When this yielded no reaction from the other, he continued, his words coming in a cascade of mingled pleas and demands.

"Both of us almost died! Please, _answer me_! Why did he move the gun? I can see him hurting you, please tell me why! Tell me what to do! What _happened_?"

"_I don't know!_"

The seeker screeched the words and spun round to face him, his optics glowing near-red, like fire behind a veil of amber. His teeth bared, exposing miniature fangs eerily similar to Megatron's own.

"Why the _krell _should I know what that lunatic thinks? How am I supposed to know why he does things? If I can't figure out what goes on in his deranged mind after three million years of trying, why the slag should I know _**now**_?!"

He was shaking from head to foot by the time he finished and his hands were balled into tight fists. In that moment, the jet bore a striking resemblance to an incensed wildcat. At the look on Jetfire's face, some of his ballistic rage seeped away, replaced by what looked like tiredness.

"I am sick of trying to understand Megatron. I am sick of caring about his motives or his stupid plans. I am sick to death of _thinking_ about Megatron," he said, his rasping voice dropping to a whisper.

He raised his hands to either side of his head in frustrated agony, and his optics shut tight as he let them fall away, a completely lost expression flickering upon his face. Jefire raised a hand to his wing, only to have the red and white seeker jerk roughly away with a snarl. He moved dartingly away from the white shuttle, going to stand close by the door that lead down into the main base.

Jetfire stood still for a moment, gazing upon him.

As he moved forward, Starscream wrapped his arms around himself as though he could feel the cold of the night air around him. He still trembled, and energon tears of fury and emotion danced just beneath his optics. When Jetfire placed one of his arms on the seeker's wings, he made no move to jerk away a second time, but buried his face in his hands to avoid the shuttle seeing his tears. Moving slowly so as not to invoke his volatile partner's defences, Jetfire came to stand at the seeker's side, turning so that he could see his face.

"Hey…" he said softly, tilting his chin up gently with one hand.

Starscream removed his hands and glared icily at him, a bitter, unfeeling look on his death-pale faceplate. At the sight of his companion's mask-less face, he shut off his optics once more and lowered his head, making a hurt-animal sound as he trembled again and tried furiously to suppress it all.

"He's always there, whatever I do, he's _always _there," whispered the seeker.

Jetfire shushed him, wrapping his other arm around him and pulling the seeker into an embrace at the same time that Starscream drew towards him. The red and white jet wrapped his arms fiercely around Jetfire's neck, pulling him close as though unable to let go. A soft, choking noise akin to a sob escaped his throat and he trembled violently. The Autobot Second in Command responded by hugging him just as tightly, his companion's grief bringing fuel to leak in a thin line down one side of his charcoal-black face.

They remained holding each other for a long time, until finally Starscream stopped shaking. Drawing back, Jetfire inspected him, as the seeker quickly removed all remaining evidence of the energon stains from his face.

Giving a deep sigh born both of worry and relief, Jetfire leant his head against the others. The two were of near equal height, and Jetfire's two inch superiority in stature was barely noticeable. Calmer now, and grateful for the simple comfort and closeness of another being, Starscream stroked one hand along the Autobot Air Commander's wings.

And, as if either required proof that the universe has a sense of humour, there came a blinding flash of light. A horrible, unearthly, terrifying flash of light. There also came a snicker.

As one, the two flyers turned their heads to the door, where five feet of grinning, malevolent red robot stood, clutching an orange camera in his hands and cackling like a maniac.

"Swindle…" growled Starscream. Jetfire was pleased to see the customary look of barely-controlled rage take its place. It suggested that, for the moment, at least, things had returned to normal.

The race car giggled and said, "Aww, sorry boss, didn't mean to intrude. I mean, if you're in need of some comfort-therapy, I could offer a _hug_ if you want. Or maybe I should just leave you two _alooo-ooone_?"

His chuckling was cut short by the low, yet unmistakable sound of Jetfire's hand-gun charging up.

"That would be good," he growled.

The Minicon froze, before saying "eep", very quietly. There was a moment of pure silence before he turned and disappeared in a flash of red and a trail of smoke, running for his life.

"Remind me to step on that pesky nuisance later, would you?" said Starscream, aiming a toxic glower at where Swindle had stood two seconds earlier. Jetfire nodded, and lowered his gun.

"You okay?" he questioned, looking back to the seeker.

Starscream smirked at him, radiating tangible pride once more.

"Of course," he said loftily. As Jetfire shook his head in disbelief, the seeker gave him a slow smile which astonished him even more. Smiles from Starscream that were not composed of eighty percent pure evil were a rarity.

"Now," said Starscream calmly as they broke away, "shall we go hunt down the camera-wielding pestilence who dares name himself my partner?"

"Sounds good!" said Jetfire with enthusiasm. "Can I get the first shot?"

"Okay."

As the two flyers returned to the main base, the moon continued to shine overhead, bright and cold and brilliant as a dropped coin.

The End.


End file.
